Sea  to  Sea 


or 


Just 


LIBRARY 


UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 
Donated  in  memory  of 


John  W.    Snvder 


by 


His  Son  and  Daughter 


/ 


"'OW  DO  YOTT  DO?  HI  'OPE  HI  SEK  YOU  WELL. 


DRIVEN 


FROM  SEA  TO  SEA; 


OR, 


JUST  A   CAMPIN'. 


BY    C.    C./  POST, 
V — 

EDITOR  OF   "  The  Chicago  Express. 


CHICAGO: 
J.  E.  DOWNEY  &  CO.,  109  WABASH  AVENUE, 

I  884. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  Yesr  1883, 

BY  C.  C.  POST. 

in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  C. 
All  Rights  Reserved. 


To  THE  WORKERS,  the  men  and  the  women  who  have 
given  to  America  her  greatness  —  who  have  cleared  away 
her  forests,  bridged  her  streams,  builded  her  cities,  spanned 
the  continent  and  crossed  and  recrossed  and  checkered 
it  with  highways  of  iron  —  who  have  planted  orchards 
and  vineyards  upon  every  hillside  and  in  every  valley 
between  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  Oceans,  as  they  have 
wandered  from  sea  to  sea  \  in  search  of  "  that  better 
country,  a  few  hundred  or  a  thousand  miles  ahead,"  with 
tales  of  which  the  cunning  purloiners  of  their  homes 
have  stifled  their  thoughts  of  vengeance  and  their  long- 
ings for  juster  laws,  this  story  of  one  of  their  number  is 
respectfully  dedicated  by 

THE  AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS. 


I. — THE  LETTER,    -  7 

II. — THE  JOURNEY,      -  19 

III.— THE  REUNION,  -      29 

IV. — EVICTION,  39 

V. — Ox  THE  MOVE  AGAIN,  -*     46 

VI. — BEGINNING  A  NEW  HOME,  50 

VII. — A  LAND  FLOWING  WITH  MILK  AND  HONEY,          -  -      57 

VIII. — A  COMFORTABLE  HOMK,  63 

IX.— A  TRIP  TO  THE  CITY,  .           -      74 

X. — A  SURPRISED  ENGLISHMAN,          -  88 
XI. — THE  PICNIC     -                                  ...    100 

XII. — COURTSHIP,  109 

XIII. — VISITING  THE  MINES,  -    121 

XIV. — DEEPENING  SHADOWS,  135 

XV. — BUILDING  THE  DAM,  -     149 

XVI. — THE  DISAPPOINTED  LOVER,    -  160 

XVII. — DESOLATION,  -           -           -    171 

XVIII. — DRIVEN  TO  THE  MOUNTAINS,  185 

XIX. — THE  MOUNTAIN  RANCH,     -  -    197 

XX. — A  GLEAM  OF  SUNLIGHT,  207 

XXI. — JOHN  PARSONS  GIVES  ERASTUS  A  HINT,  -    216 

XXII. — THE  LOVERS'  MEETING,  -                      227 

XXIII. — THE  COTTAGE  AT  THE  SLOUGH,  -    245 

XXIV. — THE  THREATENING  WHIRLWIND,  -                                 255 

XXV. — OVER  THE  RANGE,             -  ...    272 

XXVI.— TAKE  ME  UP,  PAPA,  290 

XXVII.— CONSPIRATORS,               -           -  -           -           -    302 
XXVIII. — CONSUMMATE  VILLAINY,    ....         315 


DRIVEN  FROM  SEA  TO  SEA. 


CHAPTER   I. 


THE    LETTER. 


;EAR    MARTHA, 
—  I    can't   come 
home    after    you 
and     the    babies 
like    I   hoped   to 
do,    cause   I'm   broke 
again  ;  leastwise  I  hev 
ben     since     I     wrote 
you   last,   and    I   aint 
squarely  got  onto  my 
feet  yet,  but  I'm  goin 
ter    send    you    some 
money  by  next  steam- 
er ;    all  I  can   scrape 
together,  and   I  want 
you  and  the  babies  to 
pack  up  and  come  out. 
I  know  it  looks  hard  fer  you  to  have  to  make  the  trip 
across  the  plains  alone  with  the  children,  but  I  dont  see  no 
way  to  help  it  unless  we  are  never  to  see  one  another  again, 


DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEAJ 

and  I  can't  stand  that,  nor  I  dont  believe  you  want  to 
either.  And  there's  Rastus  ;  he  must  be  gettin  most  a  man 
now,  and  will  help  you  a  heap,  and  I'll  do  the  square  thing 
by  the  boy  when  he  gets  out  here. 

Jo  Bronson's  wife's  cousin,  Sy  Peters,  has  writ  Jo  that 
he  is  goin  to  come  out  this  summer  with  a  company,  and 
you  can  come  with  him  I  reckon. 

You  remember  Sy.  He's  a  livin  up  near  Perkinsville  now, 
bein  driv  off  of  his  land  long  of  the  rest  of  us.  Sy  will  be 
glad  to  do  you  a  good  turn  I  know,  for  when  we  was  both 
broke  up  back  in  New  England  by  goin  security  at  the 
bank,  he  and  I  swopped  sympathy  with  one  another,  and 
now  that  the  railroad  corporation  has  gobbled  us  both,  Sy 
will  be  willin  to  do  some  more  swopin  of  the  same  kind  I 
reckon,  an  swopin  sympathy  means  swopin  help  with  poor 
folks. 

I  spose  you'll  want  to  know  what  kind  of  a  place  I  am 
askin  you  to  come  to,  and  I  tell  you  honest,  Marty,  when 
I  say  that  natur  done  a  way  up  job  when  she  made  this 
country;  just  about  the  best  she  is  capable  of  doin,  I  reckon, 
an  all  I'm  askin  for  now  is  to  have  you  an  the  babies,  an 
I'll  be  satisfied  for  all  the  hard  work  and  losses  we've  had, 
and  they've  driv  us  from  sea  to  sea  amost,  a  gobblin  up 
one  home  after  another  after  we  had  made  em  by  hard 
work. 

Seems  to  me  thet  ther  must  be  somethin  wrong  with  the 
law,  fer  the  poor  dont  stan  no  chance  with  the  rich,  an  the 
more  law  the  less  the  fellows  that  works  gits. 

When  I  wrote  you  afore,  I  was  rakin  in  the  dust  pretty 
smart,  me  an  my  pard,  but  some  fellows  from  New  York 
came  up  there  and  proposed  to  form  a  jint  stock  company, 
and  offered  to  put  in  a  lot  of  machinery  for  histin  out  the 
ore,  agin  our  claim;  an  bein  as  we  was  anxious  to  get  at 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  9 

the  dust  as  fast  as  possible,  so  as  we  could  go  back  to  the 
States  fer  our  families,  we  agreed  to  it,  but  some  way  it 
didn't  pan  out  like  it  ort  to  a  done.  The  other  fellows 
elected  theirselves  directors,  an  pinted  one  of  theirselves 
bookkeeper,  and  pard  and  me  never  exactly  understood  how 
it  was,  but  there  was  assessments  instead  of  divies,  and  fin- 
ally we  wus  both  froze  out  of  the  mine  entirely  after  payin 
back  to  the  company  all  the  dust  we  had  taken  out  afore  we 
was  such  fools  as  to  go  in  with  em. 

After  that  I  knocked  around  in  the  diggins  for  a  spell, 
an  then  hearin  of  this  Suscol  Ranch  I  struck  out  for  it, 
and  here  I  am  ;  an  I  tell  you,  wife,  shes  just  the  most  glori- 
ous bit  of  country  on  this  side  of  the  big  range  which  nobody 
doesn't  come  back  from  when  they  hev  crost  it,  and  I 
hev  tuck  up  160  acres  of  land,  and  will  hev  a  cabin  up  an  a 
good  bit  of  the  sile  broke  afore  you  git  here,  and  we'll  be 
comfortable  in  our  old  age  yit,  in  spite  of  everything. 

This  here's  the  finest  valley  in  the  State  and  would  all 
have  been  took  up  long  ago  only  some  rich  fellows  pretended 
to  have  a  kind  of  a  Spanish  claim  on  to  it,  and  folks  were 
afraid  to  settle  here,  most  of  em,  for  fear  of  bein  driv  off 
like  we  have  been,  but  finally  some  feller  took  the  case  up  to 
court  and  it  was  decided  in  favor  of  the  squatters;  that  is, 
them  as  was  on  the  land  makin  of  themselves  homes;  and 
now  everybody  is  a-rushin  in  and  pre-emptin  quarter  sec- 
tions, and  you  needn't  be  afraid  of  bein  lonesome,  for  we'll 
have  neighbors  on  every  side  in  less  than  a  year. 

Well,  this  is  an  awful  long  letter,  but  you  see  I  wanted 
to  tell  you  all  about  everything,  and  I  hope  you  wont  feel 
too  bad  because  I  cant  come  for  you.  You  know  Id  like 
to  if  I  could,  but  I  cant  and  I  promise  you  shant  ever  have 
to  move  agin.  They  cant  drive  us  much  further  any  way, 
unless  they  make  us  take  ship  fer  it;  an  they  cant  do  that, 


10  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

fer  the  courts  hes  decided  that  no  body  hes  any  claim  on  to 
this  here  ranch,  ceptin  the  fellows  that  pre-empt  it. 

I  think  Sy  Peters  will  be  down  to  see  you  within  a  week 
from  the  time  you  get  this,  for  I  wrote  him  to  go  at  once  so 
as  to  give  you  all  the  time  possible  for  gettin  ready. 

Hopin  this  will  find   you  and  the  babies  as  well  as  it 

leaves  me,  I  remain 

Your  lovin  husband, 

JOHN  PARSONS. 

The  above  letter  was  read  by  Martha  Parsons,  first 
silently,  and  then  aloud  to  her  two  little  girls,  eight  and  ten 
years  of  age,  as  they  stood  in  front  of  their  mother  and  listened 
with  breathless  attention  and  wide  open  eyes  as  if  seeing 
wonderful  things,  half  glorious,  half  frightful,  but  altogether 
strange  and  unexplainable. 

These  were  the  babies  that  John  Parsons  had  left  six 
years  before,  when  a  corporation  jepresenting  a  railroad  laid 
claim  to  a  large  tract  of  land  upon  which  he  and  hundreds  of 
others  had  settled,  having  bought  and  paid  for  it,  and  hold- 
ing, as  they  supposed,  incontestible  titles  thereto.* 

When  it  first  became  known  to  them  that  a  corporation 

*  The  following  is  an  extract  from  a  letter  in  the  possession  of  the  author,  bearing 
date  of  Sept.  a6th,  1883,  written   him  by  Q.  A.  Wooster,  Esq.,  of  Mapleton,   Iowa, 
Secretary  of  the  Settlers  Defense  Association. 

*  *    "  I  am  thankful  for  the  kind  interest  which  you  and  others  are  taking  in  our 
behalf.     The  history  of  our  wrongs  is  too  long  to  permit  me,  with  my  limited  time,  to 
write  out  in  full  at  present.     The  lands  are  claimed  by  the  Cedar  Rapids  &  Missouri 
Railroad  Company,  under  act  of   Congress  of   June  zd,  1864.      The  first  suits  were 
commenced  in   the  January,  1877,  term  of  District  Court  of  Monona  County,  Iowa, 
against  eighty  settlers  who  held  patents  at  the  time.     James  F.  Wilson,  now  United 
States  Senator,  was  the  leading  attorney.     One  hundred  and  twenty-eight  suits  were 
afterwards  commenced  against  those  who  were  holding  under  the  homestead  act  who 
had  not  obtained  patents,  although  many  of  them  had  proved  up  and  in  some  cases 
the  patents  were  in  the  local  land  office  and  were  returned  to  Washington,  where  they 
were  canceled." 


THE    LETTER   WAS   READ    BY   MARTHA   PARSONS,    FIRST   SILENTLY,    AND 
THEN   ALOUD   TO   HER   TWO   LITTLE   GIRLS. 


12  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

would  contest  with  them  the  right  to  their  homes  and  farms,  a 
portion  of  the  settlers  threatened  vengeance  and  declared 
they  would  give  up  their  own  only  with  their  lives,  but  John 
loved  peace  better  than  contention,  and  knew  by  experience 
the  difficulty  of  fighting  bodies  that  have  no  souls  within 
them,  and  he  had  said  to  his  wife: 

"  It  is  no  use,  Marty.  The  Philistines  are  upon  us  agin, 
and  we  have  got  to  git.  It's  hard,  I  know;  harder  fer  you 
ner  for  me,  for  you  was  brought  up  sort  o'  tender  like  and 
ust  to  better  things,  an'  you've  worked  hard  and  gone  with- 
out much,  and  now  when  we  was  just  gettin'  a  start  agin' 
after  losin'  what  your  father  giv  us  an*  all  we  had  added 
to  it,  on  the  spot  where  you  was  born,  it's  mighty  tough,  but 
we'll  ha"ve  to  stand  it. 

"  They  can't  put  us  off  the  place  for  a  time  any  way,  for 
some  of  the  fellers  are  goin'  to  fight  em'  with  the  law,  though 
'tain't  no  use,  for  they'll  take  everything  they  want  in  the 
end;  and  they  want  it  all.  But  while  they  are  a  doin'  it  I'll 
try  an'  win  enough  to  make  another  home  for  you  and  the 
babies.  I'll  go  to  California,  Marty,  and  make  a  fortune, 
while  you  stay  on  the  place  with  the  youngsters,  and  by  the 
time  they  git  ready  to  turn  you  out  of  this,  never  fear  but 
I'll  come  back  with  enough  to  take  you  to  another  home  an' 
a  better  one.  May  be  it  is  for  the  best  after  all.  May  be 
I'll  git  rich  enough  to  go  back  east  and  buy  the  old  place 
where  you  was  born." 

And  so  John  Parsons  had  got  together  what  money  he 
could  by  the  sale  of  their  few  head  of  cattle  and  sheep,  leav- 
ing the  family  with  one  cow  to  supply  them  with  milk,  had 
kissed  the  babies  as  they  lay  asleep  in  their  cradle,  had 
kissed  the  wife  who  for  long  years  to  come  should  only  know 
such  sleep  as  comes  to  those  worn  with  ceaseless  labor  and 
study  of  how  to  make  the  income  meet  the  expenses  which 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  _I3 

must  be  met,  and  had  crossed  the  plains  and  mountains  that 
lay  between  his  home  and  the  Pacific  ocean,  hoping  to 
gather  enough  gold  to  repay  them  for  all  their  past  labor  and 
sufferings. 

As  John  had  anticipated,  some  of  the  homesteaders  had 
contested  with  the  railroad  company  the  right  to  the  land  for 
which  they  held  deeds  from  the  United  States  government, 
but  only  to  find  by  decision  of  the  last  court  of  resort  that 
individuals  have  no  rights  which  corporations  are  bound  to 
respect,  and  in  the  end  to  be  handed  over  to  the  mercies  of 
those  whose  tenderest  mercy  is  a  cunning  which  led  them  to 
move  slowly  on  their  prey,  exhausting  the  resources  and 
hopes  of  the  settlers  by  slow  degrees,  and  letting  their  first 
fierce  anger  burn  itself  out  or  give  place  to  hopes  born  of 
tales  of  a  yet  better  country  to  be  found  in  some  distant 
State  or  territory  where  they  would  be  free  to  again  build 
themselves  homes. 

While  in  most  cases  the  delay  in  evicting  the  settlers  was 
but  robbing  them  of  so  many  more  years  of  their  labor,  in 
the  case'  of  John  Parsons'  little  family  it  was,  however  little 
intended,  a  blessing;  for  from  the  land  already  cleared  Mrs. 
Parsons  had  been  able  to  make  a  living  for  herself  and  chil- 
dren, aided  only  by  Erastus,  an  orphan  boy  whom  out  of  their 
native  goodness  of  heart  John  and  Martha  had  taken  to  their 
hearthstone  and  their  affections  ten  years  before.  He  was 
now  a  robust  lad  of  fifteen,  tanned  by  the  sun,  toughened  by 
work,  and  with  a  sturdy  air  of  independence,  born,  in  part, 
of  the  heavy  responsibility  which  he  had  been  taught  rested 
upon  him  as  "  the  only  man  about  the  place,"  in  part  of  na- 
ture itself  and  showing  itself  in  his  eyes,  and  through  the 
childish  words  and  actions  which  had  once  led  John  Par- 
sons to  remark  to  his  wife  that  "the  little  cub  weren't 
exactly  lackin'  in  willingness  to  claim  what  was  his'n." 


14  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

When  Mrs.  Parsons  had  finished  reading  aloud  the  letter 
from  her  husband,  the  little  girls  stood  with  hands  crossed 
upon  their  long  gingham  aprons  silently  gazing  at  their 
mother,  who  as  silently  arose,  laid  the  letter  upon  the  rude 
mantel  over  the  stone  fireplace,  and  took  up  her  household 
work  where  she  had  left  it  when  a  neighbor,  in  passing, 
had  brought  her  the  letter. 

Her  mind  was  too  much  occupied  with  thoughts  to  which 
the  letter  had  given  birth  for  her  to  be  fully  conscious  of 
what  she  did,  but  force  of  habit,  born  of  the  cruel  necessity 
which  compels  nine  out  of  every  ten  of  the  wives  of  laboring 
men,  and  especially  of  farmers  the  world  over,  to  be  con- 
stantly "on  the  go,"  always  busy,  always  at  work  for  others, 
held  her  to  her  usual  round  of  duties,  even  while  her  mind 
was  busy  discussing  this  and  that  plan  for  the  most  rapid 
and  profitable  disposition  of  their  little  remaining  accumu- 
lations, devising  this  and  that  scheme  for  adding  to  the  com- 
fort of  the  family  upon  the  long  and  lonesome  journey  which 
she  saw  rise  up  before  them. 

Then,  too,  her  thoughts  turned  backward  over  the  past; 
to  the  scenes  of  her  girlhood;  to  the  time  when  she  wedded 
the  man  she  loved  and  whom  she  was  now  to  join  after  long 
years  of  separation. 

She  remembered  how  proud  she  had  been  when  he  first 
told  her  of  his  love  and  asked  her  to  be  his  wife,  and  how 
hopeful  they  had  been,  and  how  certain  of  their  future  hap- 
piness when  they  began  life  together. 

And  then  came  sadder  remembrances — the  loss  of  their 
home  through  trying  to  help  a  neighbor;  the  death  of  their 
first  baby  that  was  buried  in  the  little  church  yard  beside  her 
own  father  and  mother,  long  since  gone  to  their  reward — of 
the  other  little  one,  that  had  come  to  them  -  only  a  few 
months  after  they  landed  in  the  spot  from  which  they  were 


"WHY,  RAS,  IF  YOU   AIN'T  A  CUTTIN*   UP   RAILS  !' 
'5 


1 6  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

now  being  driven,  whose  tiny  grave,  she  remembered  with  a 
pang  keen  as  the  thrust  of  a  dagger,  must  be  left  without 
any  to  care  for  it,  without  a  permanent  enclosure  even,  per- 
.haps  to  be  forgotten,  obliterated,  trodden  upon.  But  these 
thoughts  only  served  to  recall  her  to  herself,  for  with  the  poor, 
to  think  of  the  dead  is  always  to  recall  thought  to  the  living, 
the  living  whose  necessities  lay  claim  to  every  waking 
thought,  to  every  effort  of  the  hands  and  feet. 

Her  thoughts  recalled  from  the  past  to  the  present,  from 
the  dead  to  the  living,  without  ceasing  her  work  or  even 
turning  around,  but  intending  to  address  the  little  girls  who 
yet  stood  silent  beneath  the  weight  of  their  childish  thoughts 
of  the  wonderful,  perhaps  dangerous,  journey  to  their  father 
which  they  understood  was  to  be  taken,  Mrs.  Parsons  asked: 

"  Where's  Erastus? " 

Her  voice  broke  the  spell  which  was  upon  the  children, 
and  snatching  their  sun-bonnets  from  the  bed  upon  which 
they  had  thrown  them  when  they  followed  the  neighbor  in 
with  the  letter,  they  whipped  out  of  the  house  and  darted 
around  the  corner  in  the  direction  from  which  came  the 
sound  of  the  boy's  ax. 

Across  the  pasture  lot  they  sped,  catching  their  sun-bon- 
nets from  off  their  heads  as  they  ran  and  carrying  them  in 
their  hands,  until  out  of  breath  and  within  talking  distance 
of  the  object  of  their  search,  the  oldest  girl  broke  out  with: 

"Oh!  Ras!  what  d*  spose  ?  Ma's  got  a  letter  from  pa, 
and  he  ain't  comin'  home,  'cause  he's  been  froze  out  again, 
but  he's  going  to  send  money  home  for  us  to  go  to  Califor- 
nia on,  and  Mr.  Peters  is  a  coming  down  right  away  to  see 
if  we  can  be  ready  to  start  next  week,  and — 

"Why,  Ras,  if  you  ain't  a  cuttin'  up  rails!" 

"Wall,"  replied  the  boy,  his  look  changing  from  that  of 
a  very  interested  listener  to  one  of  set  determination,  "wall, 


OR,  JUST    A    C AMPIN  .  17 

s'posen  I  am?  Didn't  your  mother  say  she  wished  she  had 
some  dry  wood  to  wash  with  to-morrer  ?  and  ain't  these  rails 
dry  ?  Guess  they  are,  fur  your  father  split  'em  and  laid  'em 
up  himself  'fore  he  went  to  California.  Shud  think  they 
ought  to  get  dry  in  six  years  if  they  are  ever  goin'  to." 

"  But  they're  rails,"  protested  both  the  girls  at  once, 
their  inborn  idea  of  the  wrong  involved  in  the  destruction  of 
property  causing  them  to  forget  everything  else  for  the  mo- 
ment. "  They're  rails,  and  if  you  cut  'em  up  for  wood  they 
will  be  spoilt,  and  besides  the  cattle  will  get  into  the  field." 

"  'Spose  they  do,  who  cares  ?  'Tain't  our  field.  They 
stole  it.  Wish  the  cattle  would  get  in." 

"Bet  they  don't  get  many  rails  with  the  place," he  added, 
bringing  his  ax  down  with  all  his  strength  and  finishing  the 
destruction  of  the  one  he  was  at  work  on. 

Then  he  shouldered  his  ax  and  the  three  returned  to  the 
house,  the  girls  still  swinging  their  sun-bonnets  in  their 
hands  and  talking  excitedly  of  the  coming  journey  to  their 
father,  and  the  new  home  which  they  were  to  have  in  the 
beautiful  country  to  which  they  were  going,  while  the  boy 
strode  on  by  their  side  saying  less,  but  with  a  look  and  step 
that  proved  him  not  less  excited  than  his  companions. 

The  week  that  intervened  before  the  coming  of  Sy  Peters, 
like  the  weeks  that  immediately  followed  it,  was  occupied 
by  the  family  in  devising  means  for  making  the  most  of  their 
possessions. 

They  already  had  a  team  which  Sy  thought  with  good 
care  would  stand  the  trip,  but  the  wagon  and  harness  were 
not  sufficiently  strong  to  risk  venturing  upon  so  long  a  jour- 
ney, and  Mrs.  Parsons  bent  every  energy  to  the  task  of  de- 
vising how  best  to  turn  this  and  that  and  the  other  article 
into  things  it  was  absolutely  necessary  that  they  should  have 
before  they  could  start. 


1 8  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

A  new  wagon  was  bought  at  the  wagon  shop  in  the  vil- 
lage, payment  being  made  in  the  old  one  backed  by  two 
cows.  The  pigs  were  sold  to  get  canvas  for  the  wagon 
cover,  the  chickens  to  pay  for  shoeing  the  horses  all  round 
with  new  shoes ;  a  better  harness  was  obtained  from  a 
neighbor  in  exchange  for  the  old  one  and  such  cheap  im- 
plements for  tilling  the  soil  as  they  had  been  using  on  the 
farm  ;  calico  and  muslin  for  garments  for  the  girls,  and  cot- 
ton jeans  for  a  change  for  the  boy  were  procured  somehow, 
the  few  cooking  utensils  and  the  beds  needed  upon  the  road 
were  packed  into  the  wagon  with  their  remaining  provisions; 
the  feeding  box  was  hung  to  the  tail  board,  a  bucket  for 
watering  the  horses  and  a  pail  of  grease  for  greasing  the 
spindles  were  hung  under  the  hind  axle,  and  one  morning  in 
May  when  the  sun  came  up  over  the  tree  tops  and  looked 
down  into  the  little  clearing,  he  saw  only  a  deserted  and 
abandoned  log  house,  from  whose  chimney  no  wreath  of 
smoke  curled  upward,  upon  whose  hearthstone  no  fire  was 
blazing. 

The  family  had  again  joined  the  great  caravan  of  toilers 
that,  like  the  red  men,  have  been  driven  from  sea  to  sea 
across  a  continent,  hunting  for  homes  and  a  resting-place 
from  those  who  covet  all  and  will  be  content  with  nothing 
less. 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  Ip 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE    JOURNEY. 

Who  shall  say  that  he  can  truly  draw  the  picture  of  a  six 
months'  journey  by  wagon  train  across  the  continent  ? 

Who  has  done  it  ? 

Who  has  depicted,  or  can  depict  the  feeling  of  loneliness 
and  isolation  that  takes  possession  of  the  hearts  of  a  little 
band  of  pilgrims  when  having,  by  such  tedious  methods  of 
travel,  placed  a  thousand  miles  between  themselves  and 
their  old  home  and  home  associations,  they  realize  that  they 
are  yet  a  thousand  miles  from  the  new  home  which  they 
hope  to  make  in  an  untried  country  ? 

Who  can  recount  the  many  incidents  over  which  men 
laugh  or  women  weep,  that  go  to  make  up  the  weeks  and 
months  of  such  a  journey? 

Who  can  convey  to  the  minds  of  those  who  have  never 
seen  them,  a  true  picture  of  the  prairies 

That  seem  bounded, 

Like  the  waters  of  the  ocean, 

Only  by  the  purple  sunset 

And  the  gray  clouds  that  in  patches 

Fleck  the  sky  that  hangs  low  over? 

Who  shall  picture  the  camp  at  night  upon  the  open  plains 
— in  the  rocky  pass — by  the  river  side — within  some  deep 
defile  ?  Who  tell  again  the  stories  that  were  told  ;  who  sing 
the  songs  that  were  sung  by  the  camp-fire,  or  along  the  weary 
dusty  road  ? 


20 


DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 


Did  those  who  blazed  the  way  across  the  continent  mark 
the  route  for  those  who  followed  them? 

Those  who  came  after  counted  the  graves  by  the  road- 
side. 

Did  these  give  names  to  the  streams  which  they  crossed  ? 

Others,  camping  by  the  streams,  drinking  of  their  waters, 
talked  of  the  memories  which  those  names  called  to  mind. 


They  who  never  made  the  journey  can  not  describe  it ; 
those  who  have,  alone  could  understand  it  if  written  ;  and 
they — they  do  not  need  to  read  it. 

What  others  saw  who  crossed  the  plains  in  1850  by  wagon 
train,  they  saw  who  made  up  the  little  company  in  which 
was  Martha  Parsons,  with  her  two  girls  and  Erastus  Hem- 
mi  ngway. 

What  others  suffered  of  loneliness  and  hardship,  they 
suffered.  They  enjoyed  all  that  others  enjoyed  ofr  the 
beauties  of  nature  and  of  the  companionship  of  those  with 
whom  they  traveled  toward  the  land  of  golden  promise. 

They  forded  the  same  streams,  traveled  for  days  and 
weeks  and  months  across  the  same  prairies,  along  the  same 


OR,  JUST    A    C AMPIN  .  21 

beaten  track,  that  at  times  seemed  endless  ;  they  climbed  the 
same  mountains  ;  they  greeted  with  glad  cries  and  thankful 
hearts  the  first  evidence  of  the  near  approach  of  their 
journey's  end,  just  as  the  members  of  every  other  company 
that  preceded  them  had  done;  just  as  those  of  every  other 
company  that  came  after  did  do;  and  when  they  had  broken 
camp  for  the  last  time;  had  made  their  last  day's  journey; 
they  received  at  its  end  the  same  hearty,  unspeakable  wel- 
come from  a  waiting  husband  and  father  that  every  other 
husband  and  father,  long  separated  and  anxious  for  the 
presence  of  his  loved  ones,  gave  them  when  their  journey 
was  ended  and  he  folded  them  once  more  within  his 
arms. 

When  John  Parsons  first  clasped  his  wife  and  little  ones 
to  his  breast  after  their  long  separation,  it  was  in  front  of  the 
shanty  which  he  had  promised  should  be  ready  for  them 
upon  the  quarter  section  of  land  which  he  had  pre-empted. 

The  shanty,  however,  was  not  what  would  be  called  such 
in  the  heavy  timbered  country  of  the  middle  west,  but  was  of 
redwood  boards  nailed  to  a  frame  of  studding,  and  the 
cracks  battened  with  narrow  strips.  The  boards  being  six- 
teen feet  in  length  and  nailed  on  perpendicularly  gave 
abundant  room  above  for  several  beds,  and  for  the  storage 
of  any  article  of  clothing  or  of  household  use  not  in  daily 
demand. 

Instead  of  being  lathed  and  plastered  the  walls,  both 
above  and  below,  were  covered  with  heavy  muslin  neatly  and 
securely  tacked  on.  The  ceiling  was  covered  with  muslin, 
but  the  floors  were  of  boards,  and  a  partition  of  boards, 
unplaned  but  neatly  fitted  together,  divided  the  lower  room 
into  two  apartments.  It  was  neither  a  very  grand  nor  a 
very  costly  house,  but  its  builder  and  owner  had  taken  no 
small  pleasure  in  thinking  that  it  was  better,  and  more 


22  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

stylish  looking,  than  the  log  house  his  family  were  leaving 
"back  in  the  States." 

He  had  whitewashed  the  outside  carefully,  and  had  built 
a  porch  over  the  front  door,  doing  everything  himself  and 
lingering  long  over  the  nicer  jobs  ;  thinking  of  how  it  would 
add  to  the  pleasure  and  comfort  of  the  wife  who  was  under- 
going the  tedious  journey  across  the  plains  in  order  to  be 
again  with  him. 

"  She's  worthy  of  a  palace,"  he  had  said  to  himself  over 
and  over  again,  "an"  I'm  just  goin'  to  make  this  here  shanty 
as  comfortable  an'  as  convenient  as  contrivin'  an'  fixin'  kin  do 
it."  And  every  evening,  after  cooking  and  eating  his  sup- 
per of  bacon  and  beans,  with  the  addition  of  "  slap  jacks," 
if  he  was  not  too  tired  or  too  indifferent  to  cook  them,  he 
would  light  his  pipe  and  sit  in  the  front  door  for  hours, 
looking  out  along  the  track  by  which  he  knew  they  must 
come,  and  wonder  where  they  were  at  that  hour  ;  if  they 
were  traveling  late,  as  they  sometimes  must  in  search  of  wa- 
ter for  their  teams  ;  if  all  were  well ;  if  they  were  in  danger 
from  the  Indians  ;  if  the  horses  with  which  they  started  were 
holding  out  well,  and  a  thousand  other  similar  things,  but 
always  refusing  to  believe  that  evil  could  come  to  them  now, 
when  their  long  separation  seemed  so  near  an  end,  and 
firmly  clinging  to  the  thought  that  they  would  soon  all  be 
together  again  in  the  home  which  he  was  preparing,  and 
which  he  meant  never  to  leave  until  called  over  the  range  to 
the  better  one. 

"  I  wonder  now  if  the  little  girls  will  know  me,"  he  had 
said  aloud,  as  he  sat  thinking  one  evening. 

"  They  were  such  little  bits  o'  tots  when,  I  left,  that  I 
really  'spect  they  have  forgotten  how  their  own  father  looks. 
There's  Martha,  now,  she'd  recognize  me  in  a  minute,  I'll 
venture  ;  six  years  is  a  long  time,  though,  and  I've  had  some 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  23 

awful   hard  knocks  durin'  that  time,  wonder  now  if  I  am 
lookin'  much  the  wus  for  wear,"  and  he  arose  a  little  hur- 


riedly  and  went  and  hunted  up  the  bit  of  looking-glass  among 
his  kit  of  things,  and  took  a  long  look  at  himself  with  a  queer 
kind  of  feeling  about  the  heart,  that  some  way  reminded 
him  of  the  days  when  he  first  knew  himself  to  be  in  love 
with  Martha  Simmonds,  and  was  a  little  uncertain  as  to  how 
his  advances  would  be  received.' 

Every  day  after  that  until  they  came,  he  had  looked  in 
the  glass  at  least  once,  and  often  more  than  once,  and  had 


24  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

kept  his  hair  and  beard  combed  and  his  clothes  looking  as 
well  as  possible,  considering  the  fact  that,  to  a  very  great 
extent,  he  was  forced  to  rely  on  strings  to  do  the  duty  usually 
performed  by  buttons. 

He  had  at  first  thought  of  meeting  his  family  at  Sacra- 
mento, and  had  gone  down  there  in  the  middle  of  August 
with  the  'intention  of  remaining  until  they  arrived  ;  but  as 
the  time  of  their  coming  was  quite  uncertain,  and  might  not 
be  for  several  weeks  yet,  and  as  some  things  remained  to  be 
done  to  the  cottage,  he  had  made  arrangements  with  Jo 
Bronson,  who  also  had  friends  in  the  expected  company,  to 
see  that  they  were  properly  directed  after  being  supplied 
with  anything  of  which  they  might  be  in  special  need,  or  to 
at  once  notify  him  in  case  anything  had  gone  wrong  with 
them,  and  had  returned  to  the  ranch  to  await  them  there. 

For  several  days  after  his  return,  he  busied  himself 
about  the  cottage ;  putting  in  a  shelf  here  ;  driving  up  a 
nail  there  ;  going  out  to  look  at  the  garden,  the  ground  for 
which  he  had  broken  early  in  the  spring — almost  the  first 
day  after  he  had  laid  his  claim  and  written  his  family  to 
come — and  which  now,  thanks  to  his  careful  tending  and 
the  natural  adaptability  of  the  soil  and  climate,  could  easily 
furnish  vegetables  and  melons  enough  for  a  larger  family 
than  the  one  whose  wants  they  were  intended  to  supply  ; 
and  remembering  that  but  a  few  days  or  weeks  intervened 
before  their  coming  ;  that  even  now  they  might  be  in  sight 
from  the  bluffs  at  the  bend  of  the  creek  whose  windings  the 
road  followed,  that  they  might  be  coming  around  the  bend 
at  any  moment,  is  it  any  wonder  that  he  slept  but  lightly,  or 
that  he  often  raised  himself  from  his  blanket,  fancying 
he  heard  a  familiar  voice  calling  to  him  through  the  dark- 
ness ? 

Only  two  days  before  their  arrival  a  neighboring  squatter 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  25 

called  at  the  ranch,  and  the  two  men  spoke  together  earn- 
estly and  excitedly,  and  when  the  neighbor  left,  John  Par- 
sons hastily  mounted  his  pony  and  dashed  away  across  the 
country  at  break-neck  speed,  casting  anxious  glances  back 
over  the  track  in  the  direction  from  which  he  expected  any 
day,  any  hour,  to  see  the  canvas-covered  wagon  in  whose 
occupants  every  hope  of  his  life  centered. 

After  an  absence  of  a  few  hours  he  returned  at  the  same 
reckless  pace,  but  only  to  dash  off  again,  after  making  certain 
that  no  one  had  been  at  the  cottage  during  his  absence. 

He  did  not  follow  any  beaten  track,  but  struck  across 
country,  in  a  direction  nearly  opposite  to  that  previously 
taken,  riding  at  the  long  swinging  gallop  for  which  the  native 
horses  of  Southern  California  and  Mexico  are  noted.  A 
ride  of  two  miles  brought  him  to  the  cottage  of  another 
settler,  whose  wife,  surrounded  by  a  flock  of  little  ones, 
appeared  at  the  door  in  response  to  a  "  halloo  "  from  the 
rider.  To  her,  Parsons  spoke  a  few  words  and  with  a 
gesture  towards  her  husband  who  could  be  seen  at  work  in 
a  distant  field  and  another  in  a  direction  slightly  different 
from  that  from  which  he  himself  had  come,  put  spurs  to  his 
animal  and  was  off  again. 

In  much  the  same  manner  he  called  at  a  half  dozen 
shanties,  speaking  a  moment  hurriedly  with  their  inmates 
and  always  leaving  them  excited  and  anxious,  his  visits  in 
every  case  being  followed  by  the  hasty  calling  of  the  hus- 
band or  father  from  his  work,  and  his  hurried  mounting  and 
riding  away  in  the  direction  pointed  out  by  Parsons. 

Just  at  nightfall  he  came  home,  fastened  instead  of 
turning  loose  his  pony,  and  cut  for  him  a  bundle  of  the 
wild  oats  that  grow  so  lustily  upon  the  rich  soil  of  the  Suscol 
ranch  and  surrounding  valley. 


26  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

Then  he  began  to  pace  back  and  forth  before  the  porch 
of  the  cottage. 

He  did  not  cook  or  eat  any  supper ;  he  even  forgot  to 
light  his  pipe. 

All  through  that  night  he  paced  up  and  down  or  stood 
looking  into  the  sky  or  out  toward  the  distant  hills. 

When  morning  came  he  cooked  and  tried  to  eat  his 
breakfast,  but  could  only  swallow  with  an  effort,  and  when 
it  was  over  he  set  the  unwashed  dishes  aside  and  went  and 
looked  in  the  bit  of  glass  again. 

What  he  saw  there  seemed  to  hurt  him  in  some  way. 
The  face  that  was  reflected  back  appeared  older  and  not  so 
good-looking  as  he  had  fancied  it  did  when  he  last  saw  it ; 
he  felt  that  even  Martha  would  hardly  know  him  ;  and  with 
the  thought,  tears,  the  first  he  had  shed  since  he  kissed  wife 
and  babies  good-bye  away  back  in  the  States,  almost  seven 
years  ago,  forced  themselves  from  his  closed  lids,  and  he  laid 
down  the  piece  of  looking-glass  as  if  ashamed  even  that  the 
image  in  it  should  look  upon  his  emotion. 

After  awhile  he  lay  down  upon  his  blanket,  telling  him- 
self that  he  must  not  look  too  care-worn  at  their  coming,  but 
his  eyes  refused  to  remain  closed.  Instead,  they  persisted 
in  wandering  about  the  rooms  ;  lingering  for  a  moment  upon 
each  object  in  which  their  possessor  had  felt  a  special  inter- 
est as  something  that  would  lighten  the  labors  of  his  wife  ; 
some  little  thing  she  would  not  be  likely  to  expect  and  which 
would  give  her  the  more  pleasure  because  of  it. 

All  the  day  through  he  was  up  and  down,  out  and  in  the 
cottage,  unable  or  unwilling  to  work,  forgetting  his  dinner 
until  long  past  the  usual  hour,  and  then  permitting  it  to 
burn  to  a  crisp  when  he  did  undertake  it  ;  but  just  as  the 
sun  was  going  down  he  saw  coming  around  the  curve  in  the 
road  a  covered  wagon  ;  and  although  wagons — such  wagons 


ALL    THROUGH    THAT    NIGHT    HE    PACED    UP    AND     DOWN     OR     STOOD 
LOOKING   INTO  THE  SKY   OR   OUT   TOWARD   THE   DISTANT    HILLS. 

27 


28  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

— were  far  from  uncommon  sights  to  him,  and  although  it 
might  well  be  strangers  that  approached,  yet  something  told 
him  that  it  was  his  own  loved  ones,  and  with  the  thought 
every  look  of  weariness  and  care  went  out  of  his  face,  and 
a  moment  later  the  woman  in  a  gingham  dress  and  sun-bon- 
net had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  her  husband  in  the  man 
whose  eager  arms  were  thrown  about  her  even  before  she 
could  descend  from  the  wagon. 


OR,  JUST  A  c AMPIN'.  29 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE    REUNION. 

It  was  true  that  the  girls  who  were  "  such  little  bits  of 
tots"  when  he  left  them  did  not  know  how  their  father 
looked,  and  would  not  have  known  it  was  he  but  for  the 
greeting  he  gave  to  their  mother  and  themselves. 

It  is  doubtful,  on  the  other  hand,  if  John  Parsons  would 
have  known  his  girls  had  he  met  them  unexpectedly. 

They  had  grown  wonderfully,  he  thought;  so  much  more 
than  he  had  imagined. 

True,  he  had  counted  the  years  that  had  flown  and  had 
said:  "Jennie  is  almost  eleven  now,  and  Lucy  past  nine," 
but  what  did  the  passage  of  years  signify  when  memory  had 
all  the  time  pictured  them  babies,  just  as  he  had  seen  them 
before  the  years  had  come  and  gone. 

Erastus,  he  thought,  had  not  changed  so  much.  He 
was  quite  a  lad  when  he  saw  him  last,  and  he  was  not  fully  a 
man  now.  He  had  grown,  of  course,  and  had  a  manly  air 
and  look,  but  he  was  not  yet  sixteen,  and  then  we  always 
expect  boys  to  grow.  He  had  seen  boys  on  the  streets  of 
Sacramento  and  elsewhere  of  all  ages  and  sizes,  and  their 
forms  and  faces  had  somehow  mingled  with  the  form  and 
face  of  Erastus  and  had  helped  to  obliterate  the  picture  of 
the  lad  as  he  saw  him  last  and  form  a  new  and  much  truer 
one  of  the  real  Erastus  whose  hand  he  now  took  and  held 
with  a  grasp  that  warmed  the  boy's  heart  toward  him 
anew. 

"  Leave  the  horses  stand  a  bit  and  come  into  the  house 


30  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

with  mother  and  the  girls,"  he  said;  "we  will  care  for  them 
by-and-by." 

But  the  boy  replied  that  he  would  rather  care  for  them 
at  once  and  could  easily  do  it  without  help  as  he  was  ac- 
customed to  do.  They  were  tired,  he  said,  with  the  long 
drive,  as  they  had  all  been  determined  to  get  through  that 
night,  and  had  broken  camp  early  and  driven  hard. 

"  Yes,  John,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Parsons,  "  it  has  been  a 
long  drive  and  a  hard  one;  not  to-day  only,  but  so  many 
days;  and  I'm  so  glad  to  think  that  we  are  not  going  to 
have  to  hitch  up  again  in  the  morning;  but  that  our  journey 
is  ended  at  last,  and  that  we  are  all  together  again." 

"  I  didn't  expect  so  nice  a  home,"  she  added,  coming  close 
to  him  and  looking  up  in  his. face  while  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears.  "And  oh!  I  am  so  glad  we  have  a  home  of  our 
own  once  more.  I  am  sure  we  shall  be  very,  very  happy 
here."  And  she  felt  hurt  when  her  husband  roughly  turned 
away  and  began  helping  Erastus  with  the  animals. 

She  supposed,  however,  that  he  was  ashamed  to  let  her 
see  how  deepfy  he  was  affected  at  the  thought  of  their  all 
being  together,  and  of  the  happiness  which  was  sure  to  be 
theirs,  now  that  it  was  so;  and  she  felt  very  certain  that  this 
was  the  case  when  a  minute  later  he  came  back,  and  put- 
ting his  arm  around  her  shoulders,  said: 

"  Come  Martha,  come  babies,  let's  go  in  and  see  the  new 
home  from  the  inside,"  and  led  her  up  the  steps  to  the  porch, 
and  then  into  the  main  room  of  the  cottage. 

"  How'll  she  do?"  he  said,  motioning  with  his  hand  about 
the  room. 

His  wife  noticed  that  his  voice  was  broken  as  he  said  it, 
but  she  did  not  wonder  at  it,  for  her  own  voice  was  not  to 
be  found  at  all  just  then;  and  sinking  into  a  chair  she  put 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  31 

both  hands  to  her  face  and  gave  way  to  the  tears  that  would 
come  in  spite  of  her. 

When  she  could  control  her  voice  she  said: 

"Please  don't  think  me  foolish,  John;  I'm  so  happy  I 
just  can't  help  crying.  Indeed,  I  didn't  expect  anything  half 
so  comfortable  and  nice,  and  now  that  we  are  all  together 
again  in  a  home  of  our  own,  I  can  think  of  nothing  else 
worth  asking  for." 

Going  behind  her  chair  her  husband  took  her  hands  in  his 
own,  and,  stooping  down,  kissed  her  twice,  and  was  silent  for 
a  time.  Then  he  said  huskily: 

"  I'm  glad  we  are  together  again,  Martha,  and  I  don't 
mean  we  shall  ever  be  parted  any  more.  Now  you  rest 
while  I  go  and  help  'Rastus  with  the  horses,"  and  turning 
he  left  the  house. 

When  he  came  back  in  company  with  the  boy  he  found 
his  wife  busy  preparing  their  supper,  the  material  for  which 
Jennie  and  Lucy  were  bringing  from  the  wagon. 

John  brought  out  his  own  stores  to  add  to  those  of  the 
travelers,  and  soon  the  family  were  seated  about  the  table,  at 
the  first  meal  eaten  together  for  so  many  years;  indeed,  the 
first  meal  that  the  girls  could  remember  to  have  ever  eaten 
in  company  with  their  father. 

Then  followed  questions  and  answers  regarding  the 
friends  in  the  States,  and  the  journey  which  was  just  ended 
so  happily,  and  at  a  late  hour  the  family  retired  to  rest  upon 
such  beds  as  could  be  improvised  from  the  stock  in  the 
wagon  added  to  that  which  the  husband  and  father  had  been 
able  to  provide  in  view  of  their  coming;  and  soon  all  were 
sleeping  the  blessed  sleep  that  comes  from  weariness  and  a 
feeling  of  having  passed  safely  through  much  of  danger; — 
all  but  John  Parsons,  who,  despite  his  last  night  of  waking, 


32  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

slept  but  little,  and  arose  in  the  morning  with  a  look  that 
showed  his  wife  at  once  that  there  was  something  upon  his 
mind,  a  knowledge  of  which  he  was  striving  to  keep  from  the 
family,  and  instantly  she  recalled  what  had  been  told  her  by 
some  friendly  squatters  near  whose  cabin  they  had  camped 
the  second  night  out  from  Sacramento;  of  a  rumor  that 
some  settlers,  somewhere  further  down  the  valley,  were  likely 
to  lose  their  claims  through  some  cause,  which  those  who 
repeated  the  tale  did  not  properly  understand. 

It  had  not  occurred  to  her  at  the  time  that  it  was  possi- 
ble it  could  be  John's  claim  that  was  in  danger. 

It  seemed  strange  now  that  it  did  not.  But  so  full  was 
her  mind  of  thoughts  of  John  himself,  of  their  coming 
'  reunion,  and  of  the  future  when  they  should  all  be  together 
in  the  new  home  that  there  was  no  room  for  anything  else; 
and  so  she  had  scarcely  heard  the  tale  at  all,  or  hearing  it 
had  dismissed  it  at  once  with  a  single  expression  of  pity  for 
the  poor  families  who  were  to  lose  their  all — even  as  she 
and  John  had  done  back  in  the  States — through  the  greed 
of  those  who  are  not  content  with  what  is  justly  theirs. 

But  now  she  understood  it. 

It  was  John's  claim  that  was  involved  and  they  had  come 
two  thousand  miles  to  find  a  home  and  resting  place,  only 
to  be  bidden  to  move  on  again  ere  they  had  shaken  the  dust 
of  the  long  journey  from  their  garments. 

"  Is  it  the  title  to  the  place,  John?"  she  asked;  "  I  know 
there  is  something  terrible  on  your  mind;  something  you  are 
afraid  to  tell  me.  I  ought  to  have  seen  it  last  night,  but  I 
didn't.  I  was  so  tired  and  so  glad,  that  I  couldn't  think  of 
anything.  Whatever  it  is,  don't  be  afraid  to  tell  me.  I  can 
bear  anything,  only  so  that  we  remain  together."  And  she 
put  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  laid  her  head  upon  his 
bosom. 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  33 

Then  John  Parsons  broke  down  and  wept.  The  children 
came  in  and  stood  wondering  and  silent.  They  knew  some- 
thing terrible  had  happened,  or  was  about  to  happen,  for, 
young  as  they  were,  they  knew  that  men  do  not  weep  at 
the  scratch  of  a  briar;  and  they  saw  their  father  weep  and 
saw  their  mother  put  up  her  hand  and  stroke  his  beard  and  face 
and  whisper  softly  something  they  could  not  hear,  but  which 
they  felt  must  be  words  of  comfort  that  were  sorely  needed. 

It  was  Erastus  that  broke  the  spell  at  last.  He  had  been 
the  first  to  rise  and  had  gone  out  immediately  to  feed  and 
rub  down  the  horses;  and  returning  had  entered  just  in  time 
to  hear  Mrs.  Parsons  speak  of  the  title  to  the  claim.  Then 
he,  too,  remembered  the  rumor  which  they  had  heard,  and 
knew  that  it  was  true,  and  understood  all  that  it  meant  to 
those  who  had  been  the  only  real  friends  he  had  ever  known, 
and  his  young  blood  grew  hot  and  for  a  moment  he  felt  that 
he  could  kill. the  men  who  were  the  cause  of  so  much  suffer- 
ing; and  then  there  came  a  great  wave  of  affection  for  the 
friends  who  had  given  him  all  the  love  he  had  ever  known, 
and  stepping  forward,  he  said  in  a  tone  of  voice  that  gave  a 
weight  to  his  words  which  his  years  would  have  denied  him: 

"  Uncle  John,  if  the  land  thieves  have  gobbled  this  place 
too,  let  them  have  it.  There  must  be  land  somewhere  that 
they  don't  claim,  and  if  there  is  we'll  find  it,  and  make  a 
home  on  it.  I'm  almost  a  man  now,  Uncle  John,  and  I'll 
help  you;  so  don't  give  up.  It  will  be  all  right  yet." 

"  Yes,  John,  cheer  up.  We  will  find  a  place  to  start 
again,  somewhere,  and  all  begin  together,"  said  his  wife.  "  I 
know,  dear,  how  badly  you  feel.  You  have  built  the  house 
for  us  and  have  thought  so  much  about  welcoming  us  here 
that  it  is  harder  for  you  than  for  us,  who  only  saw  it  for  the 
first  time  last  night." 

"  I  never  knew  it  till  just  the  other  day,"  said  John,  striv- 
3 


34  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

ing  to  speak  in  his  natural  voice;  "they  told  me  when  I 
bought  the  place  that  it  was  all  straight,  and  the  courts  had 
decided  that  nobody  had  a  claim  on  it  that  would  hold  but 
the  settler;  but  it  'pears  that  the  rich  fellows  that  claim  it 
raised  a  heap  of  money  and  bribed  Congris  to  reverse  the 
thing.  The  other  squatters  got  wind  of  it  and  had  a  meetin' 
to  see  about  it.  That  was  while  I  was  at  Sacramento  ar- 
rangin'  with  Jo  fer  your  comin',  and  I  never  knowd  any- 
thing about  it  'til  Bill  Ritchie,  who  has  the  next  claim  east, 
came  over  Thursday  mor  to  tell  me  that  another  meetin' 
was  to  be  held  that  after*,  jn  to  hear  the  report  of  the  com- 
mittee that  had  been  sent  to  Frisco  to  find  out  if  it  was  true 
or  no.  And  so  I  helped  Bill  to  notify  the  neighbors  and  we 
held  the  meetin'  at  Bill's  house,  and  the  committee  was  thar 
an'  they  said  we  was  done  for,  sure  enough;  that  Congris 
had  decided  that  the  hul  Suscol  Ranch  belonged  to  a  few 
fellows  that  never  struck  a  "blow,  nor  turned  a  sod,  nor  put 
up  a  shanty;  and  who  never  paid  nobody  fer  doin'  it,  but 
claimed  it  because  some  Spanish  king  or  other  once  pre- 
tended to  give  it  to  some  of  his  cronies  before  there  was 
any  United  States  or  anything  else  on  this  continent  but 
buffaler,  an  bars  an'  Injins. 

"  I  ust  to  be  proud  of  my  country,"  he  continued,  "  and 
was  fond  of  sayin'  that  everybody  stood  an  ekil  chance  here;, 
but  it  ain't  so.  Nobody  don't  stand  any  chance  except  he 
is  a  raskil  and  a  coward  into  the  bargin;  stealin  'thout  get- 
tin'  in  front  of  the  law.  There  ain't  no  doubt  but  that  Con- 
gris was  bribed.  Our  fellows  have  even  learned  where  and 
when  the  money  was  raised,  and  some  of  the  Congrismen 
and  Senators  who  was  bought  to  vote  agin  us;*  but  we  can't 

*  The  Suscol  Ranch  embraces  more  than  90,000  acres  of  land  lying  in  the  counties  of 
Solano  and  Napa,  in  the  State  of  California. 

The  claim  through  which  the  settlers  lost  their  homes,  was  said  to  be  a  forged 
Mexican  grant.  There  was  no  record  of  it  in  the  archives  of  the  Mexican  Government, 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  35 

prove  nothing  in  court,  fer  everything  works  agin  the  poor 
man,  who  only  wants  justice,  an'  in  favor  of  the  rich  one  that 
is  seekin'  to  rob  him  of  his  earnings;  and  if  it  wasn't  for  the 
wimin  and  children  that  might  be  left  wus  off  if  their  hus- 
bands and  fathers  wus  killed,  there  would  be  a  fight  afore 
some  of  us  give  up  our  claims." 

This  allusion  to  possible  violence  frightened  Martha  Par- 

and  it  was  never  entered  in  Jemino's  index  to  land  grants  in  California.  When  the 
land  began  to  be  valuable,  claimant  sold  the  grant  to  his  son-in-law  for  $5,000,  to  be 
paid  when  the  money  could  be  made  out  of  it.  From  the  shadow  thus  cast  over  the 
title,  the  matter  was  carried  into  the  courts.  After  several  years'  delay,  it  is  claimed 
that  by  the  use  of  $25,000  the  court  was  influenced  to  give  a  decision  in  favor  of  the 
bogus  grant.  The  case  was  appealed  to  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States,  and 
a  determined  effort  was  made  to  induce  Judge  Jerry  S.  Black,  who  was  then  Attorney 
General,  to  have  the  appeal  dismissed.  It  is  claimed  that  large  amounts  of  money  were 
sent  to  Washington  to  be  used  in  influencing  the  Attorney  General,  but  without  avail. 
Judge  Black  reported  that  he  had  "  examined  the  papers  in  the  case  and  found  that  the 
title  was  a  base  forgery  and  ought  to  be  utterly  rejected."  After  Lincoln's  inaugura- 
tion, the  same  influences  were  brought  to  bear  upon  Attorney  General  Bates,  but  with 
like  results.  The  case  was  retained  on  the  docket  and  the  court  finally  decided  that 
the  pretended  title  was  void,  and  the  lands  of  the  Suscol  Ranch  were  restored  to  the 
public  domain.  The  conspirators  at  once  made  an  effort  to  have  their  title  established 
by  special  act  of  Congress,  but  for  several  years  they  failed  in  their  efforts. 

Finally,  however,  by  methods  that  will  never  be  fully  known,  a  bill  was  forced 
through  both  houses  of  Congress,  giving  the  bogus  claimants  the  exclusive  right  to 
enter  the  land  at  $1.25  per  acre,  thus  depriving  the  homesteaders  of  their  rights  to 
their  homes  at  any  price.  Two  hundred  citizens  were  rendered  homeless  without  com- 
pensation by  this  infamous  act  of  Congress. 

Several  years  afterwards,  while  George  VV.  Julian,  of  Indiana,  was  Chairman  of 
the  Committee  on  Public  Lands,  he  made  a  strong  effort  to  have  Congress  undo  the 
wrong,  but  his  efforts  were  unavailing.  The  following  extract  from  his  speech  in  the 
House,  delivered  July  5,  1866,  will  show  that  that  body  was  fully  apprised  of  the 
nature  of  the  bogus  claim,  and  were  without  excuse  in  perpetuating  a  wrong  perpe- 
trated by  a  previous  Congress. 

Mr.  Julian  said: 

"  Mr.  Speaker,  I  regret  very  much  to  occupy  the  time  of  the  House  at  this  late 
hour  of  the  session  in  the  discussion  of  this  bill,  and  nothing  could  induce  me  to  do  so 
but  a  sense  of  duty.  I  believe,  and  feel  very  sure  in  the  opinion — without  imputing 
any  improper  motives  to  anybody — that  an  effort  is  being  made  here  to  overturn  the 
entire  land  policy  of  the  United  States,  respecting  the  rights  of  preemptors  and 
homestead  claimants  upon  the  public  lands.  I  deem  it  incumbent  upon  me,  therefore, 
to  discuss  with  some  care  the  question  involved  in  the  amendment  submitted  by  the 
committee,  affecting  the  title  to  this  well-known  ranch  in  California,  and  affecting  also 
the  proper  interpretation  of  the  act  of  Congress  of  March  3,  1863.  The  facts  of  this 


36  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

sons.  What  if  the  squatters  should  resist  and  John  should  be 
killed?  The  thought  almost  took  away  her  breath,  and  she 
tried  in  everyway  to  calm  her  husband  whom  she  had  never 
before  seen  in  so  violent  and  bitter  a  mood. 

He  did  not  really  meditate  resistance,  however.  Experi- 
ence and  observation  had  taught  him  that  those  who  could 
control  both  the  legislatures  and  the  courts  could  bring 
aids  to  their  assistance  that  made  resistance  by  any  force 
which  the  squatters  could  command  worse  than  useless;  and 
after  a  little  while  he  cooled  down  and  began  to  talk  of 
what  was  to  be  done  in  the  direction  of  seeking  a  new  home. 

"  Some  of  the  fellows  are  talking  of  goin'  up  into  the 
foot-hills,  above  Sacramento,  where  they  say  thar  ain't  no 
claim  of  any  kind  on  the  land,  and  where  it  is  most  as  easy 
to  grow  grapes  and  peaches  an'  apricots  and  sich  as  it  is  to 
raise  corn  an'  hogs  back  in  the  States.  If  they  would  pay 
for  the  work  I've  done  on  this  place,  or  even  enough  to  get 
lumber  for  another  house,  we  could  start  agin  up  there,  and 
do  purty  well  maybe,  but  they  won't.  Stealin'  is  their  game, 

case,  which  it  is  necessary  to  understand,  are  about  these  :  This  Suscol  Ranch,  in  the 
State  of  California,  is  a  large  tract  of  about  ninety  thousand  acres,  alleged  to  have 
been  granted  by  the  Mexican  or  Spanish  Government  to  one  General  Vallejo.  The  title 
was  for  a  long  time  in  dispute  and  litigation,  and  the  case  finally  found  its  way  onto 
the  docket  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States  ;  and  that  court,  after  a  full 
hearing  of  the  whole  case  on  the  points  of  law  and  of  fact  involved,  decided  that  the 
alleged  title  of  Vallejo  was  void.  It  was  not  pronounced  void  on  technical  ground,  as 
gentlemen  may  perhaps  argue  on  the  other  side,  for  Justice  Nelson  of  the  Supreme 
Court  declares,  in  so  many  words,  that'  in  every  view  we  have  been  able  to  take  of  the 
case,  we  are  satisfied  the  grant  is  one  which  should  not  be  confirmed.' 

"  This  decision  was  given  in  December,  1861,  and  so  soon  as  the  judgment  of  the 
court  was  certified  to  the  court  below  in  California,  which  was  in  March  following,  this 
whole  claim  of  90,000  acres  became  a  part  of  the  unappropriated  public  lands  of  th< 
Government,  open  from  that  moment  to  preemption  and  purchase  as  other  public  lands 
Accordingly,  as  soon  as  that  decision  was  thus  certified  and  made  known,  scores  of  per- 
sons entered  upon  this  Suscol  Ranch  as  preemption  settlers,  built  their  cabins,  put  up 
fences,  cultivated  the  land,  in  some  instances  planted  orchards,  and  asserted  the  rights 
generally  of  preemptors  under  the  laws  of  the  United  States." 


OR.   JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  37 

and  havin'  paid  Congris  to  declare  stealin'  legal,  I  'spose 
they'll  go  for  everything  in  sight." 

Mrs.  Parsons  professed  to  be  pleased  with  the  idea  of 
raising  fruit,  which  was  really  the  case,  for  she  had  already 
seen  evidences  since  arriving  upon  the  coast  of  the  liberality 
with  which  nature  dealt  with  such  of  her  products  in  this 
climate,  and  could  she  have  felt  absolutely  certain  that  they 
could  find  the  right  spot  and  get  a  claim  which  would  not  be 
wrested  from  them,  she  would  have  felt  in  no  small  degree 
contented  with  the  situation.  And  now  she  was  ready  to 
encourage  any  scheme  that  would  help  to  reconcile  her  hus- 
band to  the  inevitable. 

The  result  of  further  conversation  between  the  members 
of  the  family  was  that  Mr.  Parsons  again  mounted  his  pony 
and  rode  away  in  the  direction  of  Ritchie's  shanty;  and  that 
that  evening  a  dozen  squatters,  many  of  them  accompanied 
by  their  wives,  met  at  the  cottage,  were  introduced  to  the 
new  comers,  and  when  they  departed  it  had  been  arranged 
that  John  and  Bill  should  make  a  trip  to  the  locality  spoken 
of  and  see  if  it  was  really  suitable  for  homesteading,  while 
others  were  to  go  to  San  Francisco  and  ascertain  beyond 
possible  question  if  there  was  any  shadow  of  a  claim  hang- 
ing over  it. 

"  I  don't  never  mean  to  settle  on  another  bit  of  ground 
that  anj'body  has  ever  laid  claim  to  "ceptin  God'l-mighty," 
said  one  of  those  present;  and  all  the  others  echoed  the  sen- 
timent. 

The  next  morning  John  Parsons  took  his  wife,  and  then 
each  of  his  children  in  his  arms  and  held  them  close  to  his 
heart  for  a  moment,  kfssed  them  and  rode  away  to  try  to 
find  another  resting  place. 

As  he  reached  the  brow  of  the  hill  which  was  to  hide  the 
cottage  from  his  view,  he  checked  his  pony  and  turning, 


38  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

looked  back,  and  then  away  to  where  he  could  see  other 
houses  dotting  the  landscape,  until  a  moisture  came  to  his 
eyes  and  blurred  his  sight. 


''Only  just  a  campin',"  he  said:  "only  just  a  campin' 
where  they  thought  to  live  always;  that's  what  they're  a- 
doin';  that's  what  I've  ben  a-doin'  all  my  life." 


OR,  JUST    A    C AMPIN  .  39 

CHAPTER  IV. 

EVICTION. 

The  explorers  were  gone  ten  days.  Returning  just 
after  nightfall  on  the  evening  of  the  tenth  day  they  paused 
in  front  of  the  little  grove  surrounding  Ritchie's  shanty  to 
arrange  between  themselves  the  route  which  each  should 
take  on  the  morrow  in  notifying  those  interested,  of  their  re- 
turn and  readiness  to  report. 

The  Suscol  Ranch  is  not  a  prairie,  but  a  succession  of 
low  ridges  or  hills.  Occasionally  a  bit  of  the  rock  foundation 
crops  out  upon  some  bluffy  point,  but  generally  the  ridges 
are  tillable  clear  to  their  summits,  and  produce  wonderful 
crops  of  wheat,  an  average  of  fifty  and  sixty  bushels  to  the 
acre  being  considered  a  no  surprising  yield  even  upon  fields 
of  several  hundred  acres  In  their  natural  state  they  are 
dotted  over  with  little  groves  of  white  and  live  oak,  usually 
in  groups  of  from  a  dozen  to  a  hundred  trees,  and  it  was  in 
one  of  these  little  groves  that  Ritchie's  shanty  was  situated. 

When  the  two  men  had  agreed  upon  their  separate  course 
for  the  morrow,  and  also  upon  the  place  at  which  the  squat- 
ters were  to  be  asked  to  meet  and  decide  upon  their  future 
action,  they  separated;  Ritchie  turning  his  pony's  head 
toward  his  shanty,  while  Parsons  loosened  the  rein  upon  the 
neck  of  his  beast  already  showing  signs  of  uneasiness  at  be- 
ing held  back  when  so  near  home,  and  started  at  a  brisk 
pace  in  the  direction  in  which  he  knew  his  family  were 
anxiously  awaiting  his  coming. 

He    had    gone   but  a  few  yards,    however,    when     he 


4O  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

heard  an  exclamation  of  surprise  from  Ritchie,  who  almost 
instantly  rejoined  him  and  crowding  his  pony  close  up  to 
that  of  his  companion  exclaimed,  in  a  voice  shaken  with 
emotion  and  excitement: 

"  My  God,  Parsons,  they've  torn  down  my  shanty,  and 
heaven  only  knows  what  has  become  of  my  wife  and  child." 

It  was  true. 

Those  to  whom  the  Suscol  ranch,  comprising  thousands 
of  acres  of  the  finest  lands,  had  been  given  by  the  pur- 
chased votes  of  corrupt  congressmen  and  senators,  had 
decided  to  resort  to  eviction  in  order  to  obtain  immediate 
possession,  and  sent  a  posse  of  men  with  orders  to  destroy 
a  number  of  dwellings  as  a  warning  to  all  others,  and  Bill 
Ritchie's  shanty  had  been  among  those  selected. 

For  a  moment  the  two  men  sat  upon  their  horses  like 
statues,  looking  at  each  other  through  the  darkness;  and 
then,  with  one  impulse,  they  put  spurs  to  their  animals  and 
dashed  away  in  the  direction  of  Parsons'  house.  Neither 
spoke,  but  both  leaned  forward  in  their  saddles,  and  rode  at 
full  speed — rode  with  bated  breath,  while  alternate  hope  and 
fear  struggled  with  fierce  anger  for  possession  of  their 
bosoms. 

Had  they  stopped  to  reason  they  would  have  known  that 
there  was  little  probability  of  bodily  injury  having  been  done 
to  the  evicted  family  ;*  but  who  would  stop  to  reason  of 

*At  the  time  this  work  was  written,  the  author  was  not  in  possession  of  all  the  de- 
tails of  the  horrible  outrages  committed  upon  the  helpless  settlers  of  the  Suscol  Ranch, 
and  not  believing  it  possible  that  personal  violence  could  be  offered  to  women  by  any 
one  in  America  who  even  professed  to  act  under  the  authority  of  law,  made  use  of  the 
above  expression.  But  how  much  he  misjudged  the  extent  to  which  the  greed  for 
wealth  can  brutalize  men,  may  be  seen  from  the  following  extract  from  a  letter  re- 
ceived from  one  of  the  victims  after  the  story  appeared  in  serial  form.  "  These  large 
holders,  under  the  Vallejo  title,  had  put  up  cheap  fences  around  their  tracts  and  gone 
to  work  against  the  preempters  in  the  courts,  under  the  common  law  of  possession. 
Then  commenced  ejectment  suits,  and  the  Sheriff  of  Solano  County,  a  purchaser  under 
the  bogus  title,  was  swift  to  execute  the  mandates  of  the  court  against  the  settlers. 


OR    JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  41 

the  probable  amount  of  injury  when  he  came  suddenly  upon 
the  ruins  of  his  home  and  realized  that  those  whom  he  loved 
better  than  all  else  in  the  world,  a  defenseless  woman  with 
a  babe  at  the  breast,  had  had  the  shelter  torn  from  over 
their  heads,  and  that  they  were  gone,  he  knew  not  where  or 
how  ? 

"Naturally  they  would  seek  shelter  with  their  new  neigh- 
bors, the  Parsons,  since  they  were  nearer  than  any  other, 
and  the  two  men  would  return  together;  but  suppose  the 
Parsons  cottage  was  destroyed  also?  Supposing  all  the  cot- 
tages in  the  neighborhood  were  destroyed,  what  then  ? 

And  John  Parsons  ?  Can  the  sufferings  which  he  en- 
dured during  that  ride  be  measured  or  told  ?  That  ride  of 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  before  coming  up  over  the  intervening 
rise  they  saw  lights  in  the  window  and  a  camp-fire  burn- 
ing brightly  in  front  of  the  cottage  ? 

If  life  were  a  flame  feeding  upon  the  body  which  it 
inhabits,  then  it  would  be  easy  to  understand  how  men  some- 
times grow  old  in  a  day — how  the  hair  may  turn  white 
in  a  night;  for  one  man  may  live  more,  suffer  more  in  an 
hour  than  comes  to  others  in  a  lifetime. 

His  deputy,  armed  with  a  writ  of  ejectment,  went  to  the  house  of  Curley  while  he  was 
absent  and  seized  his  wife,  and  amid  the  screams  of  the  children,  beat  and  threw  her 
out  of  the  house  in  the  most  cruel  manner,  and  injured  her  so  seriously  that  she  lay 
helpless  for  several  months  The  Sheriff  then  went  with  a  posse  to  eject  a  Mr.  Han- 
son, and  he  not  being  at  home,  and  his  wife  supposing  it  to  be  a  mob,  made  resistance, 
when  they  seized  and  handcuffed  her  and  beat  her  in  so  shocking  a  manner  that  in  a 
few  months  she  died  of  her  injuries.  He  also  went  to  Cornelius  Martin  s  house  with 
his  posse  of  fifty  Tnen — made  up  of  land  sharks  and  their  hirelings— and  while  Mrs. 
Martin  was  sick  in  bed,  they  seized  and  carried  her  out.  Martin  begged  them  to  wait 
until  he  could  carry  out  his  furniture,  and  he  had  scarcely  time  to  do  so  when  the 
house  was  leveled  to  the  ground.  This  crew  of  land  sharks  had  all  the  officials  on 
their  side.  Mr.  McCullough  and  another  man,  in  going  into  their  quarter  section,  had 
to  cross  a  temporary  fence,  and  they  happened  to  break  a  couple  of  rails,  and  for  si/ 
doing  were  arrested  for  malicious  trespass,  taken  before  a  magistrate  and  sentenced  to 
sixty  days  imprisonment,  which  they  served  out  in  jail.  Ashbrook  was  assassinated  at 
night,  and  Cox  was  murdered  in  daylight  and  Rooney  seriously  wounded — all  pre- 
gmptors." 


DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 


The  posse  sent  to  evict  the  homesteaders  had  gone 
directly  to  John  Parsons'  cottage  from  Ritchie's;  but  they 
were  preceded  by  Mrs. 
Ritchie,  who,  fright- 
ened by  the  threats  of 
men  to  tear  the  shanty- 
down  over  her  head  if 
she  did  not  at  once 
leave  it,  had  caught  her 
babe  from  its  cradle 
and  ran  directly  to 
the  Parsons  homestead, 
where  she  arrived  al- 
most as  much  dead  as 
alive,  and  had  imparted 
the  dreadful  informa- 
tion, believing  it  to  be 
true,  that  every  dwel- 
ling on  the  ranch  was 
to  be  torn  down,  and 
had  urged  Mrs.  Par- 
sons to  take  the  chil- 
dren and  fly  with  her  to 
some  place  in  the  hills 
where  they  could  hide 
from  those  who  were 
bent  upon  a  mission  of 
destruction,  and  whom 
her  excited  imagination 
had  magnified  into  a 
small  army,  ready  for  any  outrage  upon  the  persons  as  well 
as  the  property  of  those  against  whom  they  were  sent. 

Mrs.  Parsons  was  scarcely  less  agitated  at  the  recital  of 


OR,  JUST    A    C AMPIN  .  43 

the  terrible  news  than  was  she  who  brought  it;  and  Erastus 
who  had  listened  without  saying  a  word  to  the  story 
of  the  outrage,  made  no  objection  to  the  proposition, 
but  helped  to  make  into  a  bundle  the  scanty  wardrobe  of  the 
family,  and  in  company  with  the  frightened  women  and  chil- 
dren crossed  the  creek  upon  a  little  foot-bridge  made  of 
planks,  and  placed  them  all  within  the  shelter  of  the  bluffs 
on  the  opposite  side,  and  a  little  further  down,  where  they 
would  be  out  of  sight  of  the  posse  either  from  the  cottage  or 
from  any  point  on  the  road  over  which  they  would  pass  in 
continuing  their  work  of  destruction. 

This  done,  in  spite  of  the  pleadings  of  the  little  girls 
and  Mrs.  Ritchie,  and  the  almost  commands  of  "Aunt 
Martha,"  as  he  had  always  called  Mrs.  Parsons,  he  returned 
to  the  cottage^ and  carefully  examined  the  rifle  which  he  had 
been  allowed  to  purchase  when  the  journey  across  the  plains 
began,  and  also  that  of  "  Uncle  John,"  which  hung  over  the 
door  between  the  two  apartments.  Then  he  closed  and  barri- 
caded as  best  he  could  the  doors  of  the  cottage  and  waited. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait,  for  very  soon  the  posse,  com- 
posed of  a  dozen  men,  halted  in  front  of  the  dwelling,  and 
the  leader  advanced  and  rapped  loudly  on  the  door. 

It  is  probable  that  the  posse  had  lingered  a  little,  know- 
ing the  direction  in  which  Mrs.  Ritchie  had  fled  with 
her  child,  and  guessing  that  the  family  to  whom  she  would 
impart  the  information  of  the  destruction  of  her  own  dwel- 
ling would  be  frightened  thereby  into  leaving  also,  and 
thus  enable  them  to  avoid  the  scene  which,  in  justice,  it 
must  be  said  was  no  pleasure  to  them;  and  evidently  they 
thought  that  the  ruse  had  succeeded,  for  the  leader  of  the 
squad  remarked  as  he  halted  the  men: 

"  Guess  we  shan't  have  to  frighten  anybody  to  death  here 
to  get  them  to  leave." 


44 


DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 


He  was  right.  The  occupant  of  the  cottage  was  not 
frightened,  but  in  another  minute  the  officer  was,  for  he 
heard  the  click  of  a  rifle  lock  and  knew  that  there  was  not 
only  somebody  within,  but  that  that  somebody  meant  busi- 


ness ;  and,  hastily  stepping  back  off  of  the  porch,  he  said 
to  the  men  :  "  Nobody  at  home  here  ;  guess  we've  done 
enough  for  one  day,  anyhow  ;  let's  quit  and  go  home."  And 
in  another  moment  the  whole  posse  was  out  upon  the  road 
and  headed  in  the  direction  from  which  they  came. 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  45 

It  is  more  than  possible,  it  is  probable,  that  the  officer 
did  not  intend  to  destroy  the  house  from  which  this  little 
family  had  fled,  and  which  Erastus  Hemmingway  had  deter- 
mined to  defend  at  the  risk  of  his  life. 

It  was  one  of  the  best  cottages  in  the  whole  ranch  and 
was  too  valuable  to  be  destroyed  if  the  family  could  be 
frightened  into  leaving  without ;  hence  those  nearest  it  had 
been  destroyed  first,  with  the  expectation  that  it  would  result 
in  its  abandonment,  if  not  immediately,  at  least  within  a  very 
short  time  ;  and  the  purpose  of  the  posse  in  stopping  at  all 
had  been  to  add  to  the  fright  of  its  occupants  by  threats  and 
by  their  presence  ;  instead  of  which  their  leader  received  a 
fright  himself,  which  induced  him  to  move  a  little  more  rap- 
idly than  was  his  wont,  and  to  keep  his  person  well  sheltered 
behind  the  wagon  in  which  was  deposited  the  axes  and  iron 
bars,  by  means  of  which  they  had  carried  on  their  work  of 
destruction  at  other  places. 

When  Erastus  was  satisfied  that  the  men  were  really 
gone,  he  unbarricaded  the  door  and  returned  to  the  anxious 
group  behind  the  bluff. 

At  first  they  could  not  be  persuaded  to  go  back  to  the 
house,  the  little  girls  crying  and  begging  their  mother  to 
"  hitch  right  up  and  go  back  to  the  States,"  where  at  least 
their  lives  were  safe  ;  but  finally  venturing  far  enough  out  to 
take  a  look,  they  saw  approaching  a  man,  whom  Mrs.  Ritchie 
recognized  as  a  neighbor,  and  were  reassured. 

The  neighbor  proved  to  be  another  of  the  evicted  squat- 
ters looking  for  shelter  for  his  houseless  family,  and  when 
John  Parsons  and  Bill  Ritchie  reined  up  their  heated  ponies 
in  front  of  the  cottage  that  night,  it  was  the  only  one  stand- 
ing within  a  circle  of  two  miles  on  every  side,  and  a  dozen 
families  with  their  little  stores  of  household  goods  were 
domiciled  within,  or  camping  beneath  its  hospitable  shadow. 


46  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO   SEA: 

CHAPTER  V. 

ON    THE    MOVE    AGAIN. 

The  report  made  by  Parsons  and  Ritchie  of  the  advan- 
tages and  resources  of  the  country  which  they  had  visited 
was  quite  as  favorable  as  any  one  had  expected. 

It  was  a  wild  country,  of  course.  There  was  no  land  for 
pre-emption  suitable  for  their  purposes  without  going  back 
from  Sacramento  some  distance,  and  they  must  expect  a 
hard  life  for  a  number  of  years ;  but  it  was  a  beautiful 
country,  and  would  one  day  be  thickly  settled.  Already  a 
few  families  had  started  fruit  ranches,  and  had  obtained  the 
most  gratifying  results. 

Grapes,  peaches,  pears,  apples,  apricots,  nectarines, 
pomegranates,  and  many  other  fruits  were  grown  of  a  qual- 
ity that  the  men  had  never  seen  equalled  anywhere  "  in  the 
States,"  and  that  which  under  the  circumstances  was  of  equal 
importance  to  these  people,  was  the  rapidity  with  which  all 
fruit-bearing  trees  and  vines  began  producing. 

Grapes  at  three  years  from  the  cutting,  and  Beaches  at 
'three  years  from  the  pit,  would  bear  no  inconsiderable  bur- 
dens of  fruit  ;  while  most  other  varieties  were  equally  rapid 
in  reaching  maturity. 

Melons,  and  indeed  all  kinds  of  vines  and  vegetables, 
were  wonderfully  prolific,  and  Irish  potatoes,  turnips,  car- 
rots, beets,  and  other  root  crops,  could  be  raised  in  abund- 
ance, and  by  the  simplest  methods  of  cultivation. 

For  the  present  it  was  probable  that  the  miners  in  the 
vicinity  would  consume,  at  large  prices,  any  surplus  that  the 


OR,   JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  47 

squatters  might  produce  ;  and  if  in  time  this  market  should 
fail,  a  little  work  would  enable  them  to  transport  everything 
they  produced  to  the  river,  where  it  could  be  shipped  direct 
to  Sacramento,  or  down  to  the  coast. 

Those  whose  duty  it  had  been  to  ascertain  regarding  the 
title  to  the  land  in  the  locality  under  consideration,  reported 
it  free  from  taint  of  any  kind.  In  point  of  fact  the  claim  of 
these  men  to  the  land  upon  which  they  settled  in  the  foot- 
hills above  Sacramento  city,  was  never  disputed. 

A  motion  that  they  locate  upon  the  lands  described  was 
put  to  a  vote  and  carried  unanimously,  and  preparations  for 
the  journey  at  once  began. 

The  team  which  had  brought  John  Parsons'  family  across 
the  plains  was  again  hitched  to  the  canvas-covered  wagon, 
their  little  store  of  goods  was  packed  therein,  including  as 
much  of  the  products  of  the  garden  as  could  be  added  with- 
out overloading  the  team,  leaving  all,  even  Mrs.  Parsons  and 
the  children,  to  walk,  and  thus  they  again  took  up  their  jour- 
ney, a  dozen  families,  all  told. 

Some  in  the  little  company  were  entirely  without  money. 
All,  not  excepting  John  Parsons,  were  nearly  so.  And  Mar- 
tha knew  well  that  worse  hardships  than  walking  for  a  few 
days,  or  even  weeks,  beside  the  team,  awaited  her  and  her 
children  before  they  could  erect  a  shelter  or  procure  the 
wherewithal  to  provide  a  comfortable  home. 

True,  the  men  might  go  back  to  mining.  There  would 
be  mines  in  the  vicinity  of  the  claims  they  expected  to  locate, 
but  these  men  had  lost  all  faith  in  their  luck  with  the  pick. 
They  had  worked  at  it,  more  or  less,  all  of  them,  but  none 
had  ever  "struck  it  rich."  Besides  they  were  of  that  class 
of  men  who  prefer  steady  gains,  even  if  slow  and  small,  to 
the  excitement  of  speculation  or  searching  with  a  pick  and 


48  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

shovel   for   a   fortune   which    may   possibly   come    at   any 
moment,  but  in  all  probability  will  never  come  at  all. 

Mining  partakes  very  much  of  the  character  of  gambling. 
It  constantly  holds  out  the  promise  of  large  gains — of  a  for- 
tune, to  be  secured  in  a  day,  in  an  hour  perhaps.  The  next 
deal,  the  next  shovel-full,  the  next  blow  with  the  pick,  may 
disclose  a  pocket  filled  with  gold,  and  convert  the  finder  into 
a  Croesus  ;  and  so  he  works  on  for  days  and  months  and 
years  with  but  one  object,  one  thought — to  find  that  which 
men  have  decreed  should  be  of  more  value  than  home,  or 
friends  or  honors  ;  than  the  means  of  sustaining  life  ;  than 
life  itself  —  nay,  more  ;  that  failing  to  procure  this  one 
thing,  they  shall  be  denied  all  others. 

But  these  men  were  not  speculators,  not  gamblers  by 
nature.  They  were  men  who  loved  best  the  quiet  of  home 
and  the  peaceful  pursuits  of  agriculture.  Farmers  and 
farmers'  sons  back  in  the  States,  a  brief  experience  in 
mining  had  satisfied  most,  and  all  had  tried  it  until  they 
were  satisfied.  What  they  wanted  was  an  opportunity  to 
earn  their  living  and  make  homes  for  themselves  and  fami- 
lies in  obedience  to  nature's  laws  and  their  own  inclinations, 
by  the  cultivation  of  the  soil,  and  the  gathering  of  its  ripened 
fruits  and  grains. 

They  were  not  unused  to  hardships.  What  man  or 
woman  was,  that  had  been  a  miner  or  miner's  wife  back  of 
'60  in  California  ? 

And  they  were  not  cowards.  Tht  cowards  went  out 
later,  when  the  wilderness  had  been,  in  a  measure,  subdued; 
when  braver  men  had  proven  the  immense  resources  of  the 
country;  had  bridged  its  torrents;  had  opened  its  mines; 
had  driven  out  the  Indians;  had  laid  the  foundation  for  pri- 
vate fortunes  and  national  wealth — it  was  then  the  cowards 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN.  49 

came,  or  were  begotten  of  the  spirit  of  gambling,  the  greed 
for  sudden  and  immense  wealth  which  the  ceaseless  search 
for  gold  stimulates  if  it  does  not  create — came  and  plotted 
to  rob  better  men  of  their  hard-earned  savings.  These  men, 
I  say,  journeying  from  their  ravaged  homes  upon  the  Suscol 
Ranch  to  the  foot-hills  to  begin  again,  were  not  cowards,  and 
they  were  inured  to  hardship,  and  like  all  other  people 
they  were  too  quick  to  forget  wrongs  done  them  under  the 
cloak  of  law,  and  they  let  their  anger  die  out;  refused  to 
peer  too  closely  or  too  far  into  the  future,  which  they  could 
not  control,  and  laughed  as  they  journeyed,  instead  of  cry- 
ing; sang  scraps  of  frontier  songs,  instead  of  recounting  to 
each  other  the  story  of  their  sufferings. 

And  the  women  ?  Why,  bless  you,  dear  reader,  women 
learned  long  ago,  some  centuries  back,  I  think  it  was,  to 
suffer  and  be  still.  Not  one  woman  cried  out  at  the  hard- 
ships she  was  compelled  to  undergo  during  that  whole 
journey.  4 


'50  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

CHAPTER  VI. 

BEGINNING    A    NEW    HOME. 

Arriving  at  their  destination  each  head  of  a  family  se- 
lected his  claim  and  at  once  began  the  work  of  erecting 
a  shelter. 

John  Parsons  and  Bill  Ritchie  selected  claims  near  to, 
though  not  adjoining  each  other,  for  the  country  here  is 
more  broken  than  on  the  Suscol  Ranch,  much  of  it  being 
unfit  for  farming  or  even  for  fruit  growing;  and  very  few 
quarter  sections  can  be  found  lying  wholly  in  a  valley. 

Generally,  if  the  squatter  could  get  a  claim,  one-half  of 
which  was  in  the  valley,  he  was  well  contented  to  take  the 
remainder  upon  the  broken  lands  lying  upon  the  bluffs. 

Such  a  claim  was  that  which  John  and  Martha  Parsons, 
assisted  by  Erastus,  selected. 

"The  boy  has  been  faithful,"  said  John  to  his  wife.  "I  don't 
know  what  you  and  the  girls  would  have  done  but  for  him, 
crossin'  the  plains,  an'  I  mean  to  do  the  square  thing  by  him 
if  ever  we  do  get  ahead  a  bit.  Besides,  the  grit  which  he 
showed  back  at  the  other  place  ought  to  entitle  him  to  hev 
his  advice  axed,  if  only  for  good  manners  sake;  'specially  if 
it  is  anything  in  which  he  is  interested." 

And  thereafter  nothing  of  importance  to  the  family  was 
ever  fully  decided  upon  until  Erastus  had  been  given  an  op- 
portunity to  express  an  opinion  of  its  wisdom  or  feasibility. 

The  valley  in  which  most  of  our  pilgrims  had  sought  homes 
was  scarcely  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  wide;  the  stream 
which  watered  it  keeping  nearer  to  the  bluffs  upon  the  right 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN.  51 

side  the  greater  part  of  the  way,  but  occasionally  curving 
outward,  near  to  or  past  the  center  of  this  level  strip  of 
ground  between  the  hills. 

\Vhere  the  stream  made  one  of  its  curves,  leaving  between 
its  channel  and  the  bluff  a  handsome  piece  of  ground  of  per- 
haps twenty-five  acres,  which  was  slightly  higher  than  the 
rest  of  the  valley,  and  so  not  likely  to  be  overflowed  by  the 
water  during  the  winter  freshet,  and  near  to  the  bluff,  which 
sloped  back  gradually  for  some  distance,  did  John  Parsons 
begin  the  erection  of  his  humble  home. 

Material  for  building  was  scarce  and  high.  Lumber 
could  have  been  obtained  had  the  settlers  possessed  the 
means  of  paying  for  it;  but,  lacking  this,  they  were  obliged 
to  do  the  best  they  could  with  the  material  furnished  by  na- 
ture upon  or  near  the  spot.  Some  dug  into  the  sides  of  the 
hills,  thus  securing  the  walls  for  three  sides  of  their  dwell- 
ings, the  roof  and  front  being  of  such  bits  of  lumber  as  they 
had  brought  with  them  or  could  purchase;  in  some  instances 
the  rude  front  being  of  lumber  which  had  once  composed 
dry-goods  boxes  and  in  which  the  clothing  or  furniture  of 
the  owners  had  been  brought  from  the  States. 

Mr.  Parsons  and  Erastus,  in  preference  to  this  style  of 
half  dug-out,  decided  to  build  of  logs,  but  to  obtain  these 
they  were  obliged  to  go  several  miles  further  into  the  hills 
and  snake  down  the  bodies  of  small  spruce  trees.  This  took 
much  time  and  hard  work,  but  willing  hands  made  light  of 
it,  and  three  weeks  from  the  day  of  arrival  the  family  moved 
into  their  new  house. 

There  was  but  one  room,  and  that  not  large;  and  the 
floor  was  the  earth,  smoothed  and  beaten  down.  There 
were  two  doors,  with  a  window  upon  either  side:  the  latter 
taken  from  the  cottage  in  the  Suscol  Ranch  and  brought 
through  in  the  wagon  with  the  bedding  carefully  packed 


52  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

about  them.  The  furniture  consisted  of  some  rough  shelves 
in  one  corner  sufficient  to  hold  a  few  pieces  of  crockery  in 
daily  use,  a  table,  several  chairs  and  two  beds,  which,  with 
the  stove,  so  filled  the  single  apartment  that  there  was  no 
room  for  another  bed,  even  if  they  had  possessed  it;  and 
for  the  time  Erastus  slept  in  the  covered  wagon,  for  which 
there  was  little  present  use,  and  later  on  upon  a  bunk  on  the 
dirt  floor  of  the  shanty. 

It  was  very  far  from  being  as  comfortable  as  the  cottage 
back  on  the  Suscol  Ranch,  and  as  for  elegance  or  effort  at 
"  respectability  "  it  made  none  whatever;  was,  in  fact,  as 
much  below  the  log  house  "back  in  the  States,"  which  the 
family  had  left,  as  the  Suscol  cottage  had  been  above  it  in 
that  regard,  and  this  thought  kept  coming  to  John  Parsons, 
and  causing  him  twinges  of  pain  all  the  time  they  were  at 
work  on  it,  but  once  fairly  domiciled  beneath  his  own  roof, 
poor  though  he  was,  with  his  family  about  him,  and  with  the 
cheerful  voice  of  his  wife  ever  bidding  him  take  courage,  he 
soon  ceased  to  dwell  upon  his  disappointment;  or  at  least  to 
make  mention  of  it. 

The  first  thing  to  be  done  after  the  shanty  was  up  and 
the  family  safely  sheltered,  was  the  securing  of  provender 
for  the  teams;  for  while  domestic  animals  will  live  all  winter 
on  what  they  can  pick,  and  in  ordinary  seasons  come  through 
in  good  condition;  yet  they  cannot  do  this  if  required  to 
work,  and  our  friends  had  sod  to  break  for  next  season's  crop. 
So  they  set  about  gathering  the  wild  grasses  which  grow 
with  wonderful  luxuriance  during  the  rainy  months,  but  turn 
yellow  and  brown  when  the  dry  season  comes  on,  curing  as 
perfectly  where  they  grow  as  by  the  process  of  hay-making 
pursued  in  countries  which  lack  the  pure  dry  atmosphere  of 
the  Pacific  coast. 

The  first  rains,  however,  wash  the  greater  portion  of  the 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  53 

nourishment  out  of  this  dried  grass,  and  although  the  new 
shoots  spring  up  at  once,  it  is  difficult,  for  a  time,  for  stock 
to  get  at  it  through  the  heavy  coating  of  old  and  worthless 
growth  which  falls  down  over  it,  and  is  not  very  nourishing 
when  obtained. 

A  portion  of  the  settlers  had  a  cow  each,  but  those  in 
whom  we  are  most  interested  were  without.  Among  those 
who  were  so  fortunate  as  to  possess  one,  however,  was 
Ritchie  ;  and  as  Mr.  Parsons  and  Erastus  were  enabled  to 
give  him  needed  assistance  in  the  erection  of  his  shanty 
and  the  cutting  of  grass  for  his  team  and  cow,  it  was 
agreed  that  the  milk  should  be  divided  between  the  two  fam- 
ilies for  the  next  year,  Jenny  and  Lucy  making  regular  trips 
for  their  share  every  night  and  morning. 

The  shanty  up,  and  a  sufficient  amount  of  grass  secured, 
the  settlers  next  turned  their  attention  to  the  breaking  of  the 
soil,  the  planting  of  trees  and  vines,  and,  at  the  proper  time, 
of  vegetables.  For  the  first  year  they  expected  to  live 
largely  upon  wild  game  and  the  few  provisions  which  they 
had  brought  with  them.  The  second  year  they  would  get  on 
much  better. 

There  is  no  country  where  the  common  domestic  fowls, 
ducks,  chickens  and  geese,  are  so  easily  raised  or  repay  so 
well  the  little  attention  which  they  require,  as  in  California; 
and  our  friends  were  in  possession  of  a  sufficient  number  of 
these  to  enable  them  to  subsist  upon  eggs  and  fowls  of  their 
own  raising,  if  need  be,  by  another  year  ;  besides  which  they 
would  be  well  supplied  with  vegetables,  so  that  the  prospect 
was  not  so  very  gloomy  after  all,  especially  as  all  were 
blessed  with  good  health  ;  and  hope,  which  usually  comes 
with  a  healthful  body  busily  employed  in  its  own  service, 
gave  a  coloring  as  of  the  sunrise  to  the  future  which  was 
opening  up  before  them. 


54  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

Fruit  trees  were  already  being  shipped  to  the  coast  by 
way  of  the  isthmus,  and  although  they  were  costly  and 
our  friends  poor,  they  managed  to  get  a  few  ;  enough,  at 
least,  to  furnish  grafts  for  future  use.  Of  peach  pits  and 
apple  and  pear  seeds  the  careful  housewife  who  presided 
over  John  Parsons'  shanty  had  brought  a  supply  from  the 
States. 

Grape-cuttings  could  be  more  easily  obtained.  More 
than  a  century  before,  the  Jesuit  priests  who  penetrated  up- 
ward from  Mexico,  had  planted  grape-vines  brought  from 
Spain,  and  these,  crossed,  perhaps,  with  other  varieties 
brought  from  the  States,  and  favored  by  the  adaptability  of 
the  climate,  produced  a  fruit  far  excelling  anything  which  the 
Atlantic  States  can  boast  of. 

And  so  when  spring  came  again  and  the  rain  ceased, 
there  was  quite  the  appearance  of  living  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  Parsons'  shanty.  Some  twenty  acres  of  the  land  had 
been  broken,  a  garden  planted,  and  many  of  its  products 
were  lifting  their  heads  to  the  sunlight ;  a  half-hundred 
fruit  trees  and  a  hundred  grape-vines  had  put  forth  their 
leaves,  and  were  ready  to  drink  in  the  sunshine  and  grow. 
And  they  gre\v.  Grew  so  fast  that  one  could  almost  fancy 
he  saw  them  grow  and  stretch  themselves. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  only  thing  which  ever  distanced 
a  California  grape-vine  when  once  it  got  down  to  the  busi- 
ness of  growing,  is  the  bean-vine  of  Jack  the  Giant  Killer, 
known  to  our  childhood  days  ;  the  one  that  Jack  undertook 
to  climb  to  the  top  of,  but  which  grew  faster  than  he  could 
climb,  and  so  carrying  him  with  it,  finally  reached  clear  up 
to  the  giant's  castle. 

And  such  clusters  of  fruit  as  hang  dependent  upon 
their  stems,  and  grow  and  ripen  in  the  long  sunny  days 
of  September  and  October,  when  not  a  cloud  mars  the  blue 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  55 

of  the  sky  for  weeks  and  weeks  ;  clusters  that  look  like 
pure  globes  of  clear  crystal ;  or  that  turn  purple  and  amber- 
colored  where  they  hang  among  the  broad,  velvety  leaves 
that  seem  as  if  conscious  of  the  beauty  of  the  picture  which 
they  help  to  make  ;  and  which  turn  themselves  sideways 
upon  their  long  stems,  now  hiding,  now  disclosing  the  fruit 
in  their  midst. 

The  California  grapes  shipped  by  refrigerator  cars,  and 
exposed  for  sale  at  the  fruit  stands  in  all  our  eastern  cities, 
and  which  attract  such  universal  attention,  give  but  a  poor 
idea  of  California  grapes  when  plucked  and  eaten  standing 
beneath  the  vine  in  California,  or  sitting  at  ease  at  your 
own  table  or  that  of  a  friend,  with  the  sea  or  the  mountains 
in  sight  through  the  open  window. 

Only  the  tougher  skinned  or  less  luscious  of  the  fruits  of 
all  kinds  will  bear  such  long  shipping.  The  finer  and 
juicier  and  more  luscious  varieties  of  each  must  be  eaten 
where  they  are  grown,  or  be  sent  to  a  not  distant  market. 

California  plums  are  wrapped  in  tissue  paper  and  sent 
east  boxed  up  like  oranges  from  Florida  or  ttte  West 
Indies,  and  sold  "  a  nickel  apiece,  or  three  for  a  dime,"  to 
people  who  buy  them  as  a  curiosity,  or  a  very  rare  treat. 
At  home  in  California  the  children  eat  them  as  children  eat 
apples  in  New  England,  and  the  housewife  drops  them  into 
liquid  sugar  and  takes  them  out  great  globes  of  pearl  with 
centers  of  amethyst.  Or  she  cuts  them  in  halves,  and, 
removing  the  pit,  lets  them  dry  in  the  sun,  and  stores  them 
away  in  sacks  and  boxes  just  as  she  does  figs  and  grapes  ; 
only  that  these  latter  are  packed  down  hard  when  but  little 
more  than  half  dried,  and  before  the  rich  juices  have  crys- 
talized  into  sugar  ;  and  which,  eaten  as  freely  as  bread  is 
eaten,  flushes  the  veins  with  the  rich  blood  that  crimsons  the 
cheeks  of  children  and  grown  people  alike  in  this  land  of 


5^  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

fruits  and  flowers ;  this  land  of  mountain  ranges  and  sea- 
washed  shores  ;  of  valleys  as  rich  in  the  elements  of  agri- 
cultural wealth  as  its  hillsides  are  with  precious  ores, —  this 
land  that  should  bear  a  people  as  free  as  the  breeze  that 
floats  in  upon  them  laden  with  healing  balm  from  the  salt 
sea  waves  to  find — not  freemen,  but,  .delving  in  mines  and 
upon  leagues  and  leagues  of  the  richest  farming  lands  upon 
the  continent — a  million  serfs. 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN-  57 

CHAPTER   VII. 

"A    LAND    FLOWING    WITH    MILK    AND    HONEY." 

"  I  say,  mother,  it  wasn't  such  a  bad  thing  for  us  after 
all,  that  they  driv  us  off  of  the  Suscol  Ranch,"  said  John 
Parsons  to  his  wife  one  morning,  as  he  came  under  the 
rough  porqh  that  had  been  put  up  in  front  of  the  shanty. 

He  had  just  finished  helping  Erastus  get  ready  to  start 
to  market  with  the  usual  load  of  fruit  which  they  were  now 
selling  daily. 

"  I'm  sure  fruit  and  poultry  raisin'  is  a  heap  pleasanter 
than  raisin'  wheat;  and  there's  more  money  into  it,  too. 

"  Only  think,  we've  been  here  less  than  five  years  now, 
and  we've  got  all  the  fruit  growin'  that  we  kin  all  of  us  tend 
to,  and  the  money  is  just  a  rollin'  in.  If  the  rest  of  the  crop 
pans  out  as  well  as  it  has  so  fur,  we  kin  build  a  new  house 
with  a  verander  all  around  it  next  year  and  have  money  left 
to  send  the  girls  down  to  'Frisco  to  school." 

"Yes,  we  are  getting  along  very  nicely,"  replied  his  wife, 
"  and  ought  to  be  thankful  I'm  sure." 

"As  soon  as  we  git  a  new  house  built,"  continued 
Mr.  Parsons,  "  we  must  begin  to  save  up  money  to  buy  a 
ranch  som'ers  nigh  about  here  for  'Rastus,  fer  I  'spose  we 
can't  in  reason  expect  the  boy  to  stay  with  us  always.  Human 
natur'  don't  change  much  I  reckon;  it's  the  same  on  the 
Pacific  as  it  is  on  the  Atlantic  coast,  and  I  hain't  forgot 
that  I  was  mighty  anxious  to  get  a  place  of  my  own  'fore 
I  was  as  old  as  'Rastus  is;  'specially  after  I  got  acquainted 
with  a  certain  girl  with  cheeks  the  color  of  them  there 


58  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

peaches  a  hangin'  out  there  in  the  sun,  and  eyes  that 
sort  of  made  me  hot  and -cold  by  turns,  a-wonderin'  whether 
they  was  encouragin'  me,  or  takin'  note  of  the  size  of  my 
cow-hide  boots,  whenever  they  looked  my  way. 

"  Not,"  he  continued,  "  as  I've  noticed  that  'Rastus  seemed 
particularly  took  with  any  of  the  girls  round  here — leastwise 
them  as  lives  far  around  here,"  he  added,  looking  hard  at 
his  wife,  as  if  endeavoring  to  read  her  thoughts. 

If  Mrs.  Parsons  understood  what  her  husband  was  think- 
ing of,  she  made  no  attempt  to  reply,  and  after  waiting  a 
second  or  two,  he  began  again  : 

"  I  don't  see  as  'Rastus  appears  to  take  particular  to  any 
of  the  neighboring  girls,  but  whether  he  does  or  not; 
whether  he  takes  a  wife  from  close  by  or  furder  off,  it's  only 
fair  that  we  help  him  to  a  start.  He's  been  true  as  steel  and 
as  kind  as  if  he  was  our  own  son,  and  I'm  a  reckonin'  if  he 
and  one  of  the  girls  should  sometime  take  a  notion  to  hitch 
up  and  work  in  double  harness,  there  wouldn't  be  any  ob- 
jections; eh,  mother?" 

"  The  girls  are  not  old  enough  to  get  married,  John," 
returned  Mrs.  Parsons.  "  Jennie  is  not  sixteen  yet  and 
Lucy  is  two  years-younger  still.  I  hope  that  neither  of  them 
will  think  of  such  a  thing  as  marriage  for  a  good  while.  Erastus 
himself  is  not  quite  twenty-one,  and  although  many  young 
men  marry  as  young  as  that,  I  do  not  think  that  Erastus  has 
any  such  intentions.  Not  that  he  has  ever  said  anything  to 
me;  but  as  you  say  I  have  not  noticed  that  he  appeared  par- 
tial to  any  of  the  neighboring  girls,  although  he  is  a  favorite 
with  all ;  and  as  for  Jennie  and  Lucy,  they  probably  seem  to 
him  like  sisters;  indeed,  he  seems  like  a  son  to  me,  and  who- 
ever he  may  choose  for  a  wife  when  he  does  marry  will  get 
an  honorable  man  for  a  husband  and  one  who  will  be  kind 
and  loving,  I  am  sure." 


OR.  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  59 

"That's  so,"  replied  John,  "  'Rastus  ain't  a  fellow  that 
will  ever  go  to  knockin'  his  wife  and  babies  around,  if  he 
ever  has  any.  But  I  'spose  it  ain't  no  use  to  try  to  fix  things 
up  for  the  young  folks.  We'll  have  to  let  'em  take  their  own 
head,  which  '11  be  just  as  the  heart  directs  'em,  I  reckon.  An' 
I  wouldn't  want  'em  to  do  no  other  way,  for  unless  the  heart 
goes  with  the  hand  it  ain't  no  use  for  to  try  to  pull  to- 
gether. Well,  now,  here's  a  youngster  that  ain't  bothering  his 
head  about  the  girls  any  way,  nor  won't  be  for  some  years 
yet,  will  you  Johnny  ?  He'll  be  bossin'  the  hull  ranch, 
though,  if  his  mother  and  I  don't  look  out,  afore  he's  big 
enough  to  hunt  hen's  eggs  or  tie  up  a  grape-vine." 

And  reaching  down  he  drew  upon  his  knee  and  gave  a 
great  hug  to  a  sun-tanned,  tow-headed  boy  that  had  just 
entered;  the  child  of  their  old  age,  born  the  year  the  shanty 
had  been  put  up  and  the  first  grape-vines  planted. 

"  I  is  bid  'nough  to  hunt  edds  now,"  retorted  the  little 
fellow,  squirming  to  release  himself  from  his  father's  arms. 

"  I  did  found  a  whole  nes'ful  out  under  the  roses  bush, 
and  you've  broke  'em;  see." 

And  he  ran  his  hand  into  his  pocket  and  withdrawing  it 
covered  with  the  yolk  of  the  eggs  stood  holding  it  up,  while 
the  liquid  dripped  down  over  his  clothes. 

"You  shouldn't  have  put  the  eggs  in  your  pocket,"  said 
his  father,  laughing  at  the  spectacle  which  he  presented. 
"  You  might  have  known  they  would  have  got  broken  and 
spoil  your  new  pants." 

"What's  'e  use  of  pantses  if  'ou  tan't  put  edds  in  'e  pottits, 
I'd  lite  to  know,"  replied  the  youngster  as  he  waddled  off  to 
his  mother  to  be  cleaned  up  and  fitted  for  some  new  adven- 
ture. "Des  I  tan  put  edds  in  my  own  potits  if  I  'ants  to," 
he  added  by  way  of  a  clincher,  as  his  father  playfully  stooped 
to  chuck  him  with  his  finger  as  he  passed  out  to  his  work. 


"  WHAT'S  'E  USE  OF  PANTSES  IF  'ou  TAN'T  PUT  EDDS  IN  'E  POTTITS, 

60 


OR,  JUST  A  c AMPIN'.  61 

When  the  season's  fruit  had  all  been  gathered  it  was 
found  that  the  last  half  of  the  crop  had  "  panned  out  all 
right "  as  compared  with  that  marketed  earlier,  and  it  was 
decided  to  send  the  girls  away  to  school  for  the  winter 
instead  of  waiting  until  spring,  when  a  new  house  was  to  be 
begun,  and  when  their  services  would  be  much  more  needed 
by  their  mother.  But  instead  of  going  to  San  Francisco 
they  would  only  go  to  Sacramento,  where  there  was  a 
very  good  school  under  the  charge  of  Professor  Cook,  and 
being  nearer,  they  could  be  the  sooner  reached  in  case 
they  should  be  taken  sick. 

Letting  the  girls  go  from  her  side  was  the  hardest 
thing  Martha  Parsons  had  been  called  upon  to  do  since 
she  let  John  take  her  arms  from  around  his  neck  and  start 
on  his  long  journey  twelve  years  before,  when  they  lived 
in  the  log  house  back  in  the  States ;  but  like  other 
mothers  she  loved  her  children  and  was  unwilling  that  her 
girls  should  grow  up  without  every  advantage  possible  to  give 
them.  Their  opportunities  for  attending  school  had  never 
been  very  good,  and  for  a  time  after  they  had  settled  in  their 
present  home  they  were  without  any  instruction  except  such 
as  she  could  herself  find  time  to  give;  and  it  was  she,  and 
not  their  father,  who  had  suggested  sending  them  away  to 
school. 

In  fact  he  had  at  first  opposed  it;  not  because  of  the  ex- 
pense, but  because  he  thought  their  mother  needed  their 
help,  and  because  he  did  not  like  to  be  separated  from 
them. 

His  own  education  was  not  so  good  as  that  of  his  wife, 
and  he  did  not  look  as  far  into  the  future  in  planning  for 
their  welfare;  or  if  so,  he  did  not  understand  as  well  as  she 
how  completely  an  uneducated  woman,  married  to  a  man 
who  follows  some  kind  of  manual  labor  for  a  living,  is  cut 


62  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

off  from  all  social  and  intellectual  intercourse  with  her 
kind,  and  how  barren  of  all  that  is  beautiful  and  ennobling 
her  life  becomes. 

It  is  bad  enough  to  be  tied  to  an  endless  round  of  house- 
hold duties,  even  when  the  mind  can  take  occasional  rest 
and  recreation  in  the  perusal  of  a  book  or  paper  ;  when 
sufficient  taste  has  been  developed  to  induce  the  taking  of 
some  interest  in  passing  events  outside  of  one's  own  school 
district ;  but  when,  as  is  the  case  with  thousands  of  women, 
no  such  taste  has  been  cultivated  in  girlhood,  and  the  seem- 
ing duties  of  wife  and  motherhood  leave  no  time  to  acquire 
or  devote  to  it  at  a  later  period,  life  becomes  no  more  than 
an  animal  existence — becomes  a  stagnant  pool,  across  whose 
waters  no  fresh  breezes  blow  ;  on  whose  margin  no  fair 
flowers  bloom  ;  in  whose  depths  is  mirrored  no  silvery  moon, 
no  star  of  hope  ;  and  the  spirit  which  should  be  prepared  at 
the  death  of  the  body  to  mount  to  higher  planes  of  thought 
and  action,  finds  itself  bound  by  chains  forged  on  earth — 
chains  which  are  not  broken  by  the  death  of  the  body,  but 
must  still  weigh  down  the  soul  in  its  efforts  to  mount  up- 
ward into  a  higher  and  better  and  holier  atmosphere. 

This,  Mrs.  Parsons  not  only  knew  but  felt,  and  she  was 
determined  that  no  sacrifice  on  her  part  should  be  spared,  if 
necessary,  that  her  girls  might  receive  at  least  sufficient 
education  to  enable  them  to  take  and  retain  positions  in 
society  with  the  most  intelligent  of  the  men  and  women  with 
whom  they  would  be  likely  to  come  in  contact  in  the  humble 
lives,  which  she  expected  and  was  content  that  they  should 
lead,  as  possible  wives  of  the  coming  men  who  were  to  make 
the  valleys  and  hillsides  blossom  as  a  garden,  and  laugh  be- 
neath their  burdens  of  fruits  and  grains. 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  63 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

A    COMFORTABLE    HOME. 

"  Looks  sort  of  showery  like,"  said  John  Parsons,  com- 
ing into  the  shanty  the  day  before  the  girls  were  to  go  to 
Sacramento,  and  finding  them  and  their  mother  with  eyes 
which  gave  evidence  of  weeping,  packing  up  their  ward- 
robes preparatory  to  starting. 

"  I  believe  I  shall  cry  myself  if  you  wimin  folks  don't 
stop  lookin'  so  sick  like  about  the  mouth.  You  don't  want 
to  see  an  old  man  like  me  cry,  do  you,  now  ? 

"  Come,  mother,  cheer  up.  You  know  the  girls  '11  be  in 
good  hands,  that  '11  treat  'em  well  and  let  us  know  if  any- 
thing happens  'em.  'Tain't  fer  very  long  any  way  ;  only  a 
few  months,  an'  I  was  gone  from  you  all  more  than  six  years, 
and  if  I  hadn't  a  left  you  we  wouldn't  have  had  this  ranch 
to-day,  which  will  soon  be  the  finest  in  the  whole  country  ; 
worth  all  the  hard  work  and  sufferin'  we've  gone  through. 

"  At  least,"  he  added,  meditatively,  "  as  well  worth  it  as 
anything  that  poor  folks  gits  is  worth  what  it  costs  'em. 

"  And  here's  Johnny,  he's  a  houseful  of  himself,  ain't 
you,  Johnny  ?  You  won't  let  mother  and  me  git  lonesome, 
will  you  ? " 

But  the  youngster  had  caught  the  infection  of  tears,  and 
his  father's  forced  attempt  at  being  jocular  could  not  remove 
the  feeling  of  coming  loneliness  that  was  casting  its  shadow 
before,  and  he  stood  still  and  looked  silently  at  the  prepa- 
rations for  the  departure  of  his  sisters  with  an  expression  on 
his  face  half  of  sadness  and  half  of  baby  wisdom,  as  if  he 


64  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

halted  between  sorrow  for  the  coming  loss  of  the  girls  and 
regret  that  his  parents  had  no  better  judgment  than  to  per- 
mit their  going. 

The  morrow  saw  them  depart.  A  few  months  later,  a 
beautiful  day  in  spring  saw  them  return,  improved  in  mind 
and  appearance  from  the  contact  with  those  whose  thoughts 
and  deeds  had  sought,  or  were  seeking,  a  different  channel 
than  that  to  which  their  own  had  been  confined. 

If  John  Parsons  had  been  proud  of  his  girls  before,  he 
was  doubly  so  now  ;  for  he  could  not  fail  to  see  that  asso- 
ciation with  people  of  education  had  given  an  added  grace 
to  the  body  as  well  as  to  the  mind.  And,  unwittingly  per- 
haps, the  young  people  of  the  neighborhood  showed  them  a 
trifle  more  deference  than  was  usually  given  to  those  of  their 
own  age  and  condition  in  life.  This  deference  was  in  no 
sense  obsequiousness  ;  it  was  but  the  natural  expression  of 
that  respect  which  all,  even  those  least  ambitious  of  excel- 
lence, feel  for  others  who  are  known  to  be  striving  to  make 
themselves  wiser  and  better. 

Mrs.  Parsons  was  not  less  pleased  than  her  husband. 
She  also  noticed  the  esteem  in  which  her  girls  were  held  by 
young  and  old  ;  and  that  while  they  aided  as  willingly  and 
cheerfully  in  the  household  work,  or  in  that  pf  the  vineyard 
and  orchard,  as  ever  they  had  done,  they  saw  that  the  per- 
forming of  manual  labor  alone  was  not  all  their  duty  to 
themselves  or  to  society,  but  that  the  mind  and  the  heart  were 
entitled  to  consideration  as  well  as  the  body. 

As  for  Erastus,  he  felt  a  little  shy  when  he  welcomed  the 
girls  on  their  return.  True,  he  kissed  both  Jennie  and  her 
sister,  but  somehow  it  was  not  the  hearty  kind  of  a  smack 
with  which  he  had  bidden  them  good-bye,  and  he  held  Lucy's 
hand  while  he  kissed  her,  instead  of  giving  her  a  hug  as  he 
had  done  the  morning  they  left. 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  65 

As  for  Johnny,  he  was  in  ecstacies  ;  for  had  not  the  girls 
brought  him  a  half-dozen  things  that  he  had  been  wanting 
and  expecting  on  their  return?  Besides,  he  should  have 
some  one  to  help  hunt  hens'  nests  and  look  for  ducks'  eggs 
in  the  water  of  the  creek,  where  they  persisted  in  laying 
them  if  they  were  not  watched  and  shut  up  every  night. 

A  few  days  after  the  return  of  Jennie  and  Lucy  the  car- 
penters came  and  began  work  on  the  new  house.  All  the 
spring  and  summer  they  were  busy  ;  and  when  they  left, 
there  stood  in  front,  and  a  little  above  the  old  shanty,  which 
was  henceforth  to  be  used  for  fruit-packing  and  drying  pur- 
poses, a  two-story  frame  house  with  green  blinds  and  a 
verandah  on  three  sides  ;  the  coolest,  most  comfortable, 
most  hospitable  looking  house  you  would  see  in  a  month's 
travel. 

And  no  more  hospitable  family  ever  lived  than  that  which 
gathered  about  the  table  of  John  and  Martha. Parsons,  and 
partook  of  the  rich  fruits  and  well  cooked  meats  and  vegeta- 
bles with  which  it  was  daily  spread. 

No  straggling  miner,  weary  with  travel  and  wanting  rest 
and  food,  ever  left  their  gate  without  at  least  a  silent 
wish  that  blessings  might  descend  and  rest  upon  the  house- 
hold. 

To  ramble  about  the  broad  porch  and  through  the  open 
rooms,  or  to  gather  around  a  cheerful  fire  in  the  wide  grate  in 
the  sitting-room,  came  both  the  young  and  the  old  of  the 
neighborhood. 

The  occasional  traveler  through  the  country  on  business 
or  pleasure  heard  of  the  Parsons'  ranch  ;  its  splendidly  tilled 
acres  ;  its  luscious  fruits  and  its  hospitable  owners,  miles 
before  he  reached  it,  and  traveled  an  hour  later  that  he 
might  knock  at  its  gates  and  obtain  permission  to  spend  the 
night  beneath  its  broad  roof. 
5 


66  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

The  Parsons'  cottage  was  not  the  only  inviting-looking 
one  in  the  neighborhood,  however.  Others  who  came  with 
them  had  prospered  also,  and  had  built  themselves  houses, 
which,  if  not  quite  so  pretentious  looking,  or  so  neat  in  their 
surroundings,  as  that  of  our  particular  friends,  were  at  least 
as  good  as  ordinary  farm  houses  in  the  States. 

Many  new  neighbors  had  also  settled  in  the  vicinity,  some 
of  whom  brought  little  fortunes  of  two  or  three  thousand 
dollars,  and  these  had  opened  ranches  and  built  houses  both 
in  the  little  valley  above  and  in  the  larger  one  below,  clear 
down  to  the  river,  upon  whose  banks,  a  two-hour's  ride  from 
our  friends'  cottage,  a  town  had  sprung  up,  where  all  needed 
supplies  for  the  family  were  obtained,  and  from  which  was 
shipped  by  steamer  the  fruit  and  vegetables  and  poultry, 
designed  either  for  the  mining  towns  above  or  the  larger 
markets  of  Sacramento  and  the  sea-port. 

School-houses  had  been  built  ;  churches  and  Sunday 
schools  organized  ;  the  streams  bridged,  roads  over  the  foot- 
hills made  passable  for  wheeled  vehicles,  and  altogether  the 
neighborhood  had  taken  on  the  airs  and  responsibilities  of  a 
community  that  wished  to  be  regarded  as  respectable,  law- 
abiding  and  conservative. 

When  Jennie  and  Lucy  Parsons  returned  to  school  again 
it  was  to  San  Francisco  instead  of  Sacramento,  and  both 
father  and  mother  went  with  them  to  see  that  they  were 
safely  settled.  They  were  not  feeling  the  stings  of  poverty 
now,  and  could  afford  a  little  recreation,  John  had  said,  and 
they  would  attend  the  agricultural  exhibition,  display  some 
of  their  own  products,  see  the  city,  and  mingle  a  little  with 
the  outside  world  ;  all  in  addition  to  getting  the  girls  fixed 
in  a  good  boarding  place. 

Mrs.  Parsons  was  not  much  inclined  at  first  to  make  the 
trip.  The  journey  across  the  plains,  she  said,  was  enough  to 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  67 

last  her  her  lifetime;  besides,  if  she  went,  Johnny  would 
have  to  go,  too,  as  there  would  be  no  one  but  Erastus 
remaining  at  home  ;  but  a  little  persuasion  from  the  other 
members  of  the  family,  and  her  natural  desire  to  see  how 
the  girls  were  to  be  fixed,  finally  decided  her  to  go,  and 
arrangements  were  made  accordingly. 

As  there  would  be  no  one  to  cook  for  Erastus,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Ritchie  asked  him  to  make  his  home  with  them  for  the 
week  during  which  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Parsons  were  to  be  absent, 
but  it  was  finally  decided  that  he  should  remain  at  the  place 
and  keep  "  bachelor's  hall "  rather  than  leave  the  house 
alone. 

Mrs.  Parsons  and  the  girls,  therefore,  baked  an  extra 
amount  of  bread  and  pies,  boiled  a  quantity  of  beef  to  be 
eaten  cold,  and  on  Monday  morning  Erastus  drove  them  all 
to  the  little  town  and  saw  them  take  the  steamer  for  San 
Francisco. 

"  It  seems  unfair  to  leave  Erastus  all  alone,"  said  Mrs. 
Parsons,  as  they  passed  up  the  gang  plank  to  the  little 
steamer.  "  He  ought  to  have  gone  instead  of  me  ;  there 
was  really  no  need  of  my  going,  and  he  would  have  enjoyed 
spending  the  week  in  the  city,  seeing  the  sights  and  attend- 
ing the  fair  with  the  girls,  very  much." 

"  Oh,  wall,  never  mind  him  this  time,"  returned  her  hus- 
band. "  He  was  down  and  saw  the  fair  all  alone  last  year, 
and  it's  your  turn  now  anyway  ;  beside,  he  can  come  down 
any  time  almost,  when  we  ain't  too  busy,  and  I  wanted  you 
to  go.  It'll  do  you  good  to  get  out  a  little.  You've  worked 
hard  all  your  life,  wife ;  both  of  us  hes,  so  fur  es  that's  con- 
cerned, and  now  that  we've  got  enough  to  be  comfortable 
on,  why,  let's  be  comfortable  ;  that's  what  I  say." 

As  for  Erastus,  there  was  a  strange  kind  of  feeling  hang- 
ing over  him  as  he  mounted  his  seat  in  the  spring  wagon,  in 


68  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

which  they  had  all  ridden  down  to  the  steamer,  and  turned 
his  horses'  heads  homeward.  He  had  not  expected  to  be 
lonesome  when  they  were  gone.  On  the  contrary,  he  had 
anticipated  having  a  pretty  good  time  of  it.  Not  that  he 
did  not  love  those  with  whom  he  had  always  lived,  for  he  did 
love  them  all  dearly,  and,  for  aught  he  knew,  equally  ;  and 
he  expected  to  miss  the  girls,  who  were  to  be  absent  so  long, 
very  greatly  indeed.  But  just  for  the  week  during  which 
they  were  all  to  be  gone,  he  should  not  get  lonely  he  had 
thought.  There  was  something  rather  enticing  in  the  feel- 
ing of  absolute  personal  liberty  ;  the  thought  that  there  was 
no  one,  not  even  the  members  of  his  own  family,  to  throw 
any  restraint  on  his  actions  or  to  break  in  upon  his  musings 
for  a  whole  week.  Besides,  one  or  two  of  his  particular 
friends  among  the  young  men  of  the  neighborhood  had 
promised  to  drop  in  and  spend  the  night  once  or  twice,  and 
the  cooking  would  be  but  just  for  a  week.  He  had  no 
doubt  but  he  could  do  it  about  as  well  and  as  nicely  as  Aunt 
Martha  or  the  girls.  And  why  not  ?  Had  he  not  seen  it 
done  every  day,  and  three  times  a  day,  ever  since  he  could 
remember? 

"  It  was  a  pity,"  he  had  told  them  when  they  had 
attempted  to  condole  with  him  over  the  prospect  of  having 
to  cook  his  own  meals,  "  it  was  a  pity  if  twenty-one  years  of 
observation  couldn't  enable  a  man  to  cook  a  decent  meal  of 
victuals,"  and  they  had  said  no  more  about  it. 

But  now,  as  he  turned  his*  horses'  heads  away  from  the 
town  and  towards  home,  there  suddenly  came  into  his  mind 
a  picture  of  the  house  and  its  surroundings,  and  this  was 
followed  by  the  queer  kind  of  a  feeling  of  which  I  have 
spoken,  and  which  he  did  not  ever  remember  to  have  expe- 
rienced before.  He  could  see  the  white  cottage  with  the 
green  blinds  all  closed  as  an  intimation  to  any  passer-by  that 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN*.  69 

the  family  were  absent.  His  old  dog,  which  had  come  with 
him  all  the  weary  way  across  the  plains,  and  had  met  and 
welcomed  him  before  he  reached  the  gate  on  his  return 
from  short  absences,  ever  since  they  settled  in  the  valley, 
would  not  do  so  to-day,  for  he  was  with  him  in  the  wagon. 

The  dog  had  become  too  old  and  stiff  to  take  pleasure 
in  following  the  wagon,  as  a  general  thing,  and  preferred 
remaining  at  home  with  the  family  when  Erastus  drove  the 
fruit  wagon  to  town,  but  when  he  saw  preparations  taking 
place  for  the  trip  to  San  Francisco,  he  had  pricked  up  his 
ears  with  evident  interest,  and  when  the  entire  family  came 
out  to  get  into  the  wagon,  old  Bose  was  close  at  their  heels, 
and  neither  coaxing  nor  threats  could  induce  him  to  remain 
behind  when  the  wagon  started. 

Evidently  he  thought  that  another  journey  across  the 
plains  was  to  be  undertaken,  and  though  much  preferring  to 
lie  in  the  sunshine  and  keep  the  chickens  out  of  the  front 
yard,  to  any  more  laborious  service,  he  would  yet  have 
undergone  any  torture  rather  than  be  separated  from  the 
family,  and  a  look  of  pain  and  mortified  pride  came  into  his 
honest  eyes  when  told  by  his  master  that  he  must  remain 
and  watch  the  house,  and  instead  of  obeying  he  crept  close 
to  their  feet  and  looked  piteously  up  as  if  begging  them  not 
to  leave  him  behind,  now  that  they  were  going  away,  never 
to  return.  And  so  they  patted  him  on  the  head  and  called 
him  "good  fellow  "  and  "brave  old  dog,"  and  told  him  he 
should  go  if  he  wanted  to.  Then  his  whole  demeanor 
changed.  He  gave  a  great  bark  and  showed  his  teeth  in  an 
attempt  to  laugh,  which  can  not  be  said  to  have  been  an  en- 
tire failure,  and  endeavored  in  every  possible  way  to  express 
his  thanks  and  assure  them  that  he  was  the  proudest  and 
bravest  dog  on  the  Pacific  coast,  and  ready  and  able  for  any 
service  that  might  be  required  of  him. 


70  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

Then  he  started  on  ahead  of  the  wagon,  looking  back 
every  few  rods  to  make  certain  that  he  was  leading  in  the 
right  direction;  but  before  they  were  half  way  to  town  he 
had  dropped  back  to  the  side  of  the  wagon  ;  then  he  fell  into 
the  rear,  and  finally,  looking  back  and  seeing  how  nearly  the 
poor  old  fellow  was  tired  out  and  how  piteously  he  begged 
with  his  great  eyes  not  to  be  left  behind,  the  wagon  had 
been  brought  to  a  stop  and  Erastus  had  got  out  and  lifted 
him  in  "with  the  rest  of  the  family,"  where  the  girls  and  Mrs. 
Parsons  had  had  some  difficulty  in  inducing  him  not  to  show 
his  gratitude  in  too  demonstrative  a  manner.  When  they 
descended  from  the  wagon  and  went  on  board  the  steamer 
he  was  so  fearful  of  being  left  that  he  kept  in  front  of  them 
and  under  their  feet  until  several  members  of  the  family 
came  near  falling  over  him;  but  when  Erastus  had  said 
"good-by  "  to  them  all  and  turning  to  go  called  to  him  to 
follow,  he  went  willingly,  evidently  satisfied  that  after  all  he 
was  mistaken  and  this  was  only  a  holiday  excursion. 

And  now  he  sat  upon  the  seat  with  Erastus  in  perfect 
contentment  and  with  a  slight  air  of  importance,  as  if  he  felt 
a  consciousness  of  having  proven  anew  his  devotion  to  those 
he  served,  and  had  received  a  recognition  of  his  value. 

Ordinarily  the  presence  of  the  dog  might  have  prevented 
any  feeling  of  loneliness  in  the  man  had  he  been  disposed 
to  it;  but  to-day,  although  he  did  feel  that  the  dog  was  com' 
pany  in  a  sense,  yet  his  very  presence,  being  unusual,  served 
to  remind  him  that  the  house  to  which  they  were  returning 
was  desolate,  and  somehow  things  took  on  an  unreal  look, 
and  when  he  turned  into  the  barnyard  and  saw  the  chickens 
and  turkeys  scratching  in  the  straw  or  wallowing  in  the  dust, 
he  was  not  quite  certain  whether  they  were  chickens  and 
turkeys  or  just  the  ghosts  of  those  that  were  wont  to  scratch 
and  strut  there  before  all  other  signs  of  life  had  ceased  and 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  71 

such  an  unnatural  and  oppressive  stillness  had  settled  down 
over  the  place. 

After  taking  the  gears  from  the  horses  and  feeding 
them  he  started  to  the  house  to  get  his  dinner.  The  thought 
of  cooking  his  own  meal  was  not  quite  so  pleasant  now  as  he 
had  thought  it  might  be,  and  he  was  half  inclined  to  go  without 
it  or  take  a  cold  snack  and  wait  until  night  before  cooking 
anything.  Then  his  appetite  began  to  return,  and  he  con- 
cluded to  at  least  fry  a  couple  of  eggs  and  make  a  cup  of 
coffee. 

He  entered  the  house  by  the  back  way,  and  stood  for  a 
moment  looking  about  him.  The  fire  was  out  in  the  kitchen 
stove;  the  chairs  stood,  stiff-backed  and  unsociable,  against 
the  wall;  the  room  had  lost  its  air  of  cheerfulness,  and  his 
footfall  had  a  lonely  kind  of  a  sound  as  he  stepped  on  the 
bare  kitchen  floor. 

He  threw  open  the  door  which  opened  onto  the  kitchen 
porch  and  let  in  a  flood  of  sunshine.  The  old  dog  had  pre- 
ceded him  to  the  house  and  taken  his  accustomed  place  upon 
the  porch  and  was  resting.  When  Erastus  opened  the  door, 
the  dog  opened  one  eye  sleepily  and  half  raised  his  head  as 
if  to  inquire  if  he  was  wanted  for  anything,  and  then 
stretched  himself  to  sleep  again.  Everything  seemed  asleep 
or  dead,  and  he  cooked  and  ate  his  dinner  with  a  feeling 
as  if  he  was  cut  off  from  all  human  society  by  a  thousand 
miles  of  desert. 

When  he  had  eaten  his  own  meal  he  called  Bose  in  and 
set  down  a  plate  with  scraps  on  it  for  him  to  eat.  Then, 
not  knowing  exactly  what  to  do  with  the  remainder  of  the 
food  which  he  had  cooked,  he  set  that  down  for  the  dog 
also,  and  took  his  hat  and  went  out  to  work. 

Several  times  £hat  afternoon  he  wondered  to  himself  that 
he  had  never  before  noticed  how  still  it  was  out  there  in  the 


72  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

orchard,  and  whether  it  was  always  so  perfectly  quiet  on  the 
farm  anyhow;  and  if  the  geese  swimming  about  in  the  little 
pond  made  for  them  by  means  of  a  low  dam  across  the 
creek,  always  moved  around  without  making  any  more  stir 
in  the  water;  or  if  their  occasional  "  honk  "  when  one  rose 
up  in  the  water  and  flapped  his  wings  was  always  pitched 
on  that  particular  lonesome  key. 

As  night  approached  he  returned  to  the  house  and  fed 
the  teams  and  the  pigs  and  the  poultry  and  then  went  in  and 
got  his  own  supper.  At  dinner  he  had  said  to  himself  that 
he  would  wash  all  the  dishes  after  supper,  when  he  should 
have  nothing  else  to  do,  but  after  eating  his  supper  he  found 
that  he  had  no  hot  water,  and  decided  to  defer  the  job  until 
morning;  so  he  let  Bose  lick  the  grease  off  of  them  and 
stacked  them  up  in  the  sink  and  went  to  bed  an  hour  earlier 
than  was  his  custom,  without  spending  any  time  poring 
over  his  favorite  authors,  "with  nobody  to  disturb  him,"  as 
he  had  fancied  himself  doing  when  the  idea  of  leaving  him 
in  sole  charge  of  the  house  for  a  week  had  first  been 
broached. 

The  next  morning  he  arose,  built  a  fire  and  put  on  water 
to  heat  and  then  went  out  to  feed  the  animals.  The  old 
dog  welcomed  him  with  a  wag  of  the  tail,  and  even  followed 
him  to  the  gate,  but  went  no  further.  He  had  not  yet  re- 
covered from  his  yesterday's  unusual  exercise,  and  when 
Erastus  returned  from  the  barn  he  found  him  in  his  accus- 
tomed place  on  the  porch  with  his  head  between  his  paws, 
from  which  he  did  not  raise  it,  although  he  thumped  on  the 
floor  of  the  porch  with  his  tail  as  an  intimation  that  he  was 
resting  well,  but  was  ready  for  breakfast  whenever  it  was 
convenient  to  his  master. 

On  entering  the  kitchen.  Erastus  found  the  fire  burned 

• 

out;  but  he  re-built  it  and  cooked  and  ate  breakfast,  after 


OR,  JUST    A   CAMPIN  .  73 

which  he  washed  the  accumulation  of  dirty  dishes,  and  got 
out  to  work  about  the  middle  of  the  forenoon.  He  ate  a 
cold  lunch  for  dinner  to  save  time,  and  for  supper,  a  friend, 
the  son  of  a  neighbor,  was  present,  and  they  piled  the  dirty 
dishes  in  a  sink,  where  Mrs.  Parsons  found  them,  with  others, 
on  her  return  from  the  trip  to  San  Francisco. 


74  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

CHAPTER   IX. 

A    TRIP    TO    THE   CITY. 

Some  difficulty  was  experienced  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Par- 
sons in  finding  a  desirable  place  for  their  daughters  in  San 
Francisco.  It  had  been  determined  that  the  girls  should  do 
their  cooking  and  care  for  their  rooms  themselves,  both 
because  it  was  cheaper  and  because  their  parents  thought 
it  wiser  that  they  should  not  forget,  but  learn  still  better, 
how  to  do  that  which  in  all  probability  they  would  be  required 
to  do  all  their  lives. 

Besides  this,  their  health  would  be  less  likely  to  suffer  if 
they  took  one  study  less  and  devoted  a  little  of  their  time 
to  household  duties,  such  as  they  were  accustomed  to  at 
home. 

After  a  day  spent  in  looking,  a  suite  of  two  very  nice 
rooms  was  found,  at  a  reasonable  rent,  in  a  house  occupied 
by  one  of  the  tutors  in  the  school  which  they  were  to  attend; 
and  as  the  family  appeared  to  be  a  pleasant  one,  the  rooms 
were  engaged,  and  arrangements  having  been  made  for  the 
girls  to  take  possession,  the  whole  party  proceeded  to  see  the 
city  and  the  displays  of  agricultural  products  and  mechanical 
skill  at  the  exposition. 

The  first  day  was  largely  spent  in  wandering  through  the 
department  of  fruits  and  vegetables.  It  was  here  that  their 
own  products  were  on  exhibition,  and  they  naturally  felt 
more  interest  in  this  than  in  any  other.  They  took  no  little 
pride  in  observing  that  few,  if  any,  excelled  them  in  the 
quality  of  the  fruit  and  vegetables  exhibited,  although  many 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN*.  75 

had  displays  which  embraced  a  larger  variety  of  products. 
Next  they  looked  at  the  poultry,  and  here  Johnny  discov- 
ered some  bantam  chickens  and  then  some  large  white 
ducks,  over  which  he  went  into  ecstacies,  and  could  with 
difficulty  be  induced  to  leave  for  the  purpose  of  looking  at 
anything  else.  When  they  had  succeeded  in  getting  him 
away  and  the  rest  of  the  family  were  engaged  in  examining 
other  things,  he  slipped  his  hand  out  of  that  of  his  father  and 
started  back  to  have  another  look. 

He  was  missed  almost  directly,  of  course  ;  in  fact  before 
he  had  got  out  of  sight  in  the  crowd  ;  but  so  eager  was  he 
to  get  another  look  at  the  ducks  and  chickens,  and  so  fast 
did  his  short  legs  stir  themselves,  that  his  father  was  una- 
ble to  overtake  him,  and  only  caught  him  when  he  paused 
before  the  coops  which  contained  what,  to  him,  was  the 
principal  things  of  value  in  the  exposition. 

Having  recovered  Johnny  and  impressed  upon  his  mind 
the  danger  which  he  ran  of  getting  lost  or  being  carried  off, 
if  he  did  not  keep  close  to  the  rest  of  the  family,  they  spent 
some  further  time  in  looking  at  the  collection  of  needle- 
work and  flowers,  and  then  returned  to  their  boarding 
place. 

The  next  day,  after  a  glance  through  the  agricultural 
department  to  ascertain  if  their  own  articles  were  undis- 
turbed, they  went  to  another  part  of  the  building  to  see  the 
machinery.  John  Parsons  was  not  a  machinist  by  trade,  nor 
had  he  any  special  love  for  mechanism  ;  and  yet  he  lingered 
long  and  with  a  kind  of  fascination  over  the  machinery  for 
mining  purposes,  and  especially  over  the  specimens  of 
hydraulic  mining  pipe,  which  were  on  exhibition. 

"  I  declare,  Marty,  he  said  to  his  wife,  "  I  believe  they 
could  wash  down  Mount  Shasta  with  that  thing  ;  and  if 
they  thought  there  was  gold  enough  there  to  pay  'em  for 


76  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

doin'  it,  they  wouldn't  be  long  in  tryin',  I'll  be  bound.  I 
heard  yesterday  that  a  company  of  Englishmen  are  at  work 
now  up  in  the  hills  above  us  some'ers,  arranging  for  hydraulic 
works." 

"  Well,"  returned  Mrs.  Parsons,  "  there  isn't  any  gold 
in  our  hills,  so  they  won't  be  wanting  to  wash  them  down, 
anyway." 

"No,"  replied  her  husband,  thoughtfully,  "there  ain't 
any  gold  in  the  hills  close  about  us,  as  anybody  knows  on." 

The  following  day  they  went  again  through  the  fruit 
and  vegetable  exhibit,  took  another  look  at  the  fowls,  and 
then  Mr.  Parsons  left  them  to  go  alone  through  the  domes- 
tic department,  while  he  went  again  to  examine  the  imple- 
ments for  hydraulic  mining. 

"  Wonder  if  they  will  tear  down  old  Shasta,"  he  mut- 
tered to  himself.  "  Wonder  if  they  won't  wash  down  all  the 
mountains  and  fill  up  all  the  valleys  ?  " 

Returning  to  his  family,  they  took  another  short  turn 
about  the  building,  and  then  returned  to  their  lodgings. 
Laying  off  her  things,  Mrs.  Parsons  turned  to  her  husband 
and  said,  a  little  reluctantly,  for  she  did  not  like  to  seem  the 
first  to  weary  of  sight-seeing  : 

"  John,  if  you  have  seen  enough  of  the  exposition,  let 
us  go  home.  If  not,  I'll  stop  with  the  girls  in  their  rooms 
until  you  are  ready  to  go." 

.   "  You   are   not   sick,  are   you,   mother  ? "   asked   John, 
anxiously. 

"  No  ;  but  I  am  tired,  and  I  want  to  get  back  home  and 
rest  and  see  to  things.  Home  is  the  best  place  for  old  folks, 
after  all." 

"  Why,  mother,  we  are  not  old  folks  yet,  by  a  good  deal. 
I  feel  'bout  as  young  and  spry  as  I  did  'fore  I  came  to  the 
coast ;  but  if  you  are  tired  and  want  to  go  home  in  the 


OR,  JUST    A   CAMPIN  .  77 

morning,  I  reckon  this  here  youngster  '11  be  ready  to  go;  eh, 
Johnny  ?  seen  enough  of  the  city  and  want  to  get  back  to 
the  ranch  ?  "  inquired  the  lad's  father,  drawing  him  between 
his  knees. 

"  I'll  go  if  you'll  buy  me  the  big  white  ducks,  and  the 
little  banta  chickens  an*  a  jack-knife  with  four  blades  in  it," 
piped  the  youngster,  who  thought  he  saw  a  chance  to  make  a 
point  in  his  mother's  evident  eagerness  to  go  home. 

"  Tell  you  what  I'll  do,  Johnny,"  replied  his  father, 
gravely,  though  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  for  he  enjoyed  the 
boy's  "cuteness,"  as  he  called  it;  "tell  you  what  I'll  do. 
I  don't  believe  mother  would  like  you  to  have  the  jack-knife, 
but  I'll  split  the  difference  and  get  you  the  ducks  and 
the  chickens. 

Johnny,  however,  stood  out.  He  wanted  the  jack-knife, 
and  this  looked  like  the  time  to  strike  for  it.  His  father 
only  laughed,  and  would  not  promise ;  but  that  night  as 
Johnny  was  being  put  to  bed  in  the  strange  house,  the 
thought  of  home  and  the  cozy  cot  where  he  slept  at  the 
foot  of  his  parents'  bed  in  the  pleasant  room  that  looked 
out,  not  upon  dusty  streets,  but  upon  the  vineyard  and  the 
orchard,  came  to  him,  and  he  crept  up  into  his  father's 
arms. 

"Papa,"  he  said,  "  I've  'eluded  to  'cept  your  offer  of  the 
big  white  ducks  and  the  little  banta  chickens,  an'  go  home 
in  the  mornin'  with  you  and  mamma." 

And  so  it  was  settled,  "settled  by  a  unanimous  vote,"  as 
his  father  said,  and  he  kissed  his  boy  good  night  and  went 
out  and  bought  the  ducks  and  chickens,  and  arranged  to 
have  them  put  on  the  steamer  in  the  morning.  If  the  girls 
had  been  allowed  a  voice  in  determining  the  going  home  of 
their  parents  the  vote  might  not  have  been  so  "unanimous," 
for  they  dreaded  being  left  alone  in  the  great  city;  but  know- 


78  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

ing  they  could  not  detain  their  parents  many  days  longer 
anyhow,  and  that  their  mother,  as  she  said,  was  tired  and 
wanted  to  get  home  and  see  to  things,  they  interposed  but 
few  objections.  So  the  next  morning  good-byes  were  said, 
with  many  injunctions  on  the  part  of  the  mother,  and  with 
kisses,  and  hugs,  and  tears,  and  promises  to  write  often. 

The  girls  did  not  go  down  to  the  wharf  to  see  them  off, 
for  they  feared  the  getting  back  to  their  rooms;  and  besides 
it  was  better  to  say  good-bye  where  no  stranger's  eye  could 
see  the  tears  which  they  knew  would  come  at  the  parting; 
and  so  chose  to  part  at  their  lodging  where  they  could  have 
a  good  cry  all  to  themselves  just  as  soon  as  their  parents  and 
Johnny  were  out  of  sight. 

Mr.  Parsons  left  them  all  together  at  the  last  moment  and 
went  down  to  say  good-bye  to  the  professor  in  whose  house 
they  were,  and  toward  whom  he  felt  kindly,  as  he  was  to  be 
in  some  degree  the  protector  of  his  daughters  during  their 
stay  at  school.  He  found  him  in  the  sitting-room  and  shook 
his  hand  heartily. 

"Good-bye,  professor,  good-bye,"  he  said.  "Take  good 
care  of  the  girls;  mother  and  I  think  a  heap  of  'em.  You'll 
find  'em  good  girls,  too,  professor,  and  smart;  take  after  their 
mother  the  girls  do;  both  of  'em.  Well,  good-bye;  let  us 
know  if  anything  goes  wrong  with  'em  anyway,  and  don't  be 
afraid  that  their  bills  won't  be  paid.  I'm  good  for  anything 
I  contract  for,  I  reckon. 

"Come  mother.  Good-bye  girls.  Come  Johnny,  we  must 
hurry  or  we'll  miss  the  boat,"  he  called  from  the  foot  of  the 
stairs,  and  a  moment  later  they  were  gone  and  Jennie  and 
Lucy  were  alone  and  having  their  cry  out  all  by  them- 
selves. 

"  I  don't  know  how  we  are  to  get  home  from  town  when 
we  get  there,"  said  John  Parsons  as  they  neared  the  landing 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  79 

that  afternoon.  "  Erastus  wasn't  to  come  for  us  until  to- 
morrow night." 

"  Maybe  some  of  the  neighbors  will  be  in,"  returned  Mrs. 
Parsons.  "  Most  likely  they  will;  if  not  we  will  manage  some 
way.  It  appears  to  me  as  if  I  had  been  gone  an  age  and  I 
must  get  home  to-night  if  I  have  to  walk.  How  do  you  sup- 
pose Erastus  is  getting  along  all  alone  ?" 

"Oh  'Ras  is  all  right,"  replied  her  husband.  "  Don't  you 
never  fear  for  him.  If  he  ain't  capable  of  takin'  care  of  him- 
self ther  ain't  no  young  feller  around  these  diggins  as  is. 
Likely  he's  a  little  lonesome,  but  he's  gettin'  on  well  enough, 
never  you  fear;  and  home'll  seem  all  the  cheerfuler  for  our 
havin'  been  gone.  Thet's  a  pint  I  kin  speak  from  experience 
on,  fer  I  kept  bach  myself  fer  better'n  six  years,  while  you 
and  the  babies  was  back  in  the  States;  and  I  don't  never 
want  to  do  it  agin." 

As  our  friends  had  hoped,  a  neighbor  was  in  town  with 
his  team,  and  gladly  offered  them  a  ride  out.  He  could  not 
carry  the  ducks  and  chickens,  however,  and  they  were  left 
with  other  purchases  for  Mr.  Parsons  or  Erastus  to  return 
for  on  the  morrow. 

It  was  nearly  dark  when,  coming  over  the  last  rise,  they 
looked  down  upon  their  own  home,  with  the  orchard  and 
vineyard  and  the  rosebush  that  clambered  over  the  wide 
porch,  fairly  covering  it  with  wreaths  of  bloom,  and  gave  a 
sigh  of  relief  at  their  journey  ended. 

Johnny  was  already  asleep  in  his  father's  lap  when  the 
wagon  drew  up  at  the  front  gate,  and  Erastus,  surprised  at 
their  unexpected  return,  came  out  to  meet  them. 

"  I  am  awfully  glad  you  have  got  back,"  he  said,  as  they 
entered  the  house;  "but  I  had  rather  you  had  delayed 
another  day,  or  at  least  until  morning.  I  had  promised  my- 
self to  wash  up  all  the  dirty  dishes  in  the  house  to-night  if  it 


8o 


DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 


took  all  night  to  do  it,  and  now  you  have  come  and  caught 
me  with  it  undone  and  the  house  in  a  terrible  fix." 

Mrs.  Parsons 
laughed.  "  Didn't  I 
tell  you,  John,  that  I 
ought  to  come  home 
and  see  to  things," 
she  said.  "A  man 
d  o  n't  know  any- 
thing about  keeping 
house." 

"  Bet  you  can't 
guess  what  I've 
got,"  broke  in  John- 
ny, now  fully  awak- 
ened and  conscious 
of  where  he  was. 
"  Three  big  white 
ducks  and  two  little 
banty  chickens,  'n 
I'll  bet  my  banty 
rooster  can  whip 
your  big  Shanghai! " 
"  Oh,  ho  !  so  you 
are  a  sporting  man 
from  the  city,  are 
you ?"  returned 
Erastus,  taking  the 
lad  up  and  hugging 
him.  "  Well,  you 


iy  banty  rooster 
your  big  Shanghai 


vhip 


wait  until  you  get 
your  chickens  home,  and  if  they  ain't  too  awfully  fierce 
looking  I'll  put  up  my  old  bob-tailed  Shanghai  against  your 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  81 

bantam  rooster,  and  if  the  banta  licks,  you  shall  have  them 
both  and  I'll  get  you  a  jack-knife  in  the  bargain,  and  if  the 
Shanghai  whips  I'll  have  the  banta  and  the  white  ducks! 
What  do  you  say;  will  you  do  it  ?" 

This  was  a  poser  to  Johnny.  He  had  been  very  certain 
that  his  bantam  could  whip  the  big,  clumsy  Shanghai,  whose 
cowardice  was  proverbial  among  the  members  of  the  family, 
and  who  was  only  kept  for  the  ridiculous  appearance  which 
he  cut  with  his  long  legs  and  tailless  body,  for  which  latter 
old  Bose  was  generally  held  accountable,  but  the  ready  assur- 
ance with  which  Erastus  offered  to  back  "old  Bob,"  as  they 
called  the  Shanghai,  against  the  bantam,  aroused  a  fear  of 
the  result;  and  much  as  he  coveted  the  jack-knife,  he  feared 
to  risk  losing  the  bantam  and  the  ducks,  and  no  amount  of 
bantering  could  induce  him  to  agree  to  the  wager.  He  had 
a  better  scheme  in  his  head.  He  waited  until  the  chickens 
were  turned  loose  in  the  barnyard,  and  when  he  had  actually 
seen  the  Shanghai  in  full  retreat  before  the  vicious  attack 
which  the  bantam  made  upon  him,  he  claimed  the  jack-knife 
and  refused  to  remember  that  he  had  not  accepted  the  offered 
wager. 

The  vacation  between  the  fall  and  winter  terms  of  school 
was  so  short  that  Jennie  and  Lucy  did  not  attempt  to  spend 
it  at  home,  but  remained  in  San  Francisco,  and  thus  were 
absent  fully  six  months  without  seeing  any  member  of  their 
family.  They  wrote  every  week,  however,  and  often  more 
frequently,  and  were  so  well  pleased  with  their  school,  and 
the  family  in  whose  house  they  were  was  so  kind,  that  those 
at  home  had  no  especial  anxiety  about  them.  They  were 
kept  supplied  with  money,  and  occasional  boxes  of  home- 
baked  pies  and  cakes,  or  a  jar  of  fresh  sweet  butter  was  sent 
them  by  steamer,  and  every  few  days  Erastus  or  Mrs.  Par- 
sons wrote  them,  thus  keeping  them  fully  advised  as  to  all 
6 


82  DRIVEN   FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

that  was  going  on  upon  the  ranch  or  among  the  young  people 
in  the  neighborhood. 

Their  father  did  not  write — he  had  never  been  much  ac- 
customed to  write  letters  until  he  left  the  States  and  went  to 
the  mines  ;  and  here  his  opportunities  for  sending  letters  had 
been  so  few  as  to  prevent  frequent  exercise  of  what  little 
talent  he  possessed  in  that  direction,  so  that  now  he  felt  no 
inclination  to  apply  his  stiffened  fingers  to  the  use  of  the 
pen,  but  was  content  to  hear  read  the  letters  received  weekly, 
and  with  sending  messages  of  love  in  those  of  Erastus  and 
his  wife;  but  as  the  time  approached  for  the  return  of  the 
girls  for  the  long  vacation  he  was  eager  for  their  coming,  and 
was  at  the  landing  waiting  for  them  more  than  an  hour  be- 
fore the  steamer  was  due;  and  when  she  came,  hurried  on 
board  the  instant  the  gang-plank  was  lowered. 

"  How'd  do,  Jennie ;  how'd  do,  Lucy;  glad  you're  back 
again.  Give  your  old  father  a  hug;"  and  he  gathered  them 
in  his  arms  and  put  his  bearded  face  down  to  theirs  for  a 
kiss,  and  then  turned  away  and  drew  the  back  of  his  hand 
across  his  eyes  and  led  them  on  shore  and  helped  them  into 
the  spring  wagon. 

"  Mother'll  be  monstrous  glad  to  see  you,"  he  said,  as 
they  drove  homeward;  "  and  so'll  Erastus  and  Johnny.  An' 
the  young  folks  in  the  neighborhood  are  arrangin'  for  a  pic- 
nic an'  a  dance  in  the  woods  for  one  day  next  week,  a  pur- 
pose so  you  can  all  see  each  other  agin. 

"  'Spect  the  young  fellows  are  mighty  anxious  to  have 
you  back  in  the  neighborhood,  bein'  there  ain't  hardly  girls 
enough  to  go  round  anyway.  I  was  just  a-tellin'  mother 
only  yesterday  that  if  you  girls  hacm't  got  your  heads  set  on 
goin'  to  school  another  year,  I'd  a  heap  ruther  you  stayed  to 
home  and  helped  her  to  make  the  house  cheery  like,  but  if 
you  want  to  go  back  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  'bject.  I  reckon  'Ras- 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  83 

tus  will  be  gittin'  married  'fore  long.  An'  maybe  he'll  bring 
his  wife  home;  I'm  sure  there's  room  enough  in  the  cottage 
fer  all  of  us,  even  ef  we  were  all  to  home,  and  I  s'pose  we 
can't  always  keep  you  girls.  Even  ef  you  was  to  leave 
school  for  good,  some  of  the  young  fellows  would  be  coaxin' 
you  away  from  us." 

"  Oh,  no,  pa;  I  am  sure  neither  Lucy  nor  I  have  any 
thoughts  of  getting  married,  have  we,  Lucy  ?"  laughed  her 
sister. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  'Ras  is  in  love  with  any  of  the 
girls  though,  do  you  ?"  she  continued.  "  I  wonder  who  it 
can  be.  Funny,  isn't  it;  but  I  never  thought  that  he  could 
ever  get  married,  had  you,  Lucy  ?" 

Lucy  said  she  had  never  thought  of  it,  though  of  course 
Erastus  would  marry  some  time,  she  supposed;  nearly  every- 
body did. 

Then  she  tried  to  talk  of  something  else,  but  Jennie  in- 
sisted on  knowing  who  it  was  that  Erastus  was  courting. 

"  Oh  I  don't  know  as  anybody  in  particular,"  her  father 
replied,  "  only  he's  ridin'  around  with  the  neighbors'  girls 
some,  and  it's  natural  he  should  marry  afore  many  years. 
He  is  a  man  now,  and  he  knows  we  are  a  savin'  money  to 
buy  him  a  ranch  with  after  a  spell." 

"  It  will  be  mighty  lonesome,"  he  added,  "  if  he  should 
marry  and  leave  mother  and  me;  'specially  if  you  girls 
should  go  too." 

The  girls  both  protested  that  they  never  meant  to  marry; 
had  not  thought  of  such  a  thing. 

"  You  must  not  talk  so,  pa,"  said  Lucy,  "  because  we  are 
never  going  to  leave  you;  but  just  as  soon  as  we  get  through 
school  will  come  home  and  stay  always  with  you  and 
mother.'' 

Jennie  noticed  that  her  sister's  voice  had  a  little  suspicion 


84  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

of  tears  in  it  when  she  said  this,  and  that  she  turned  her  head 
and  looked  the  other  way  when  she  spoke,  but  forgot  it  im- 
mediately in  wondering  if  it  were  true  that  'Ras  really  had 
any  one  picked  out  to  marry,  and  if  so,  whom  ?  She 
thought  over  all  the  girls  in  the  neighborhood,  and  finally 
decided  that  it  was  Mary  Jones.  Mary,  she  knew,  had  al- 
ways liked  Erastus.  She  liked  Mary  herself,  and  the  two 
had  been  together  a  great  deal,  and  if  Erastus  was  going  to 
marry  anybody  she  hoped  it  would  be  Mary. 

"  There's  Johnny  coming  to  meet  us,"  said  John,  Sen., 
as  they  came  over  the  hill  and  struck  the  little  stretch  of 
level  ground  in  front  of  the  cottage. 

"  You  bet  he's  got  a  good  eye  for  seein'  things.  'Spect 
he's  been  watchin'  for  us  for  an  hour.  He  thinks  a  heap  of 
his  dad,  don't  you,  Johnny  ? "  he  said,  as  he  pulled  up  the 
ponies,  and  reaching  down,  lifted  the  youngster  into  the 
wagon  "where  they  could  get  at  him,"  as  the  girls  said; 
and  straightway  they  began  to  hug  and  kiss  him,  keeping  it 
up  until  he  squirmed  away  from  them,  and  getting  in  be- 
tween his  father's  knees,  insisted  on  being  allowed  to  drive. 

Mrs.  Parsons  was  at  the  gate  waiting  to  welcome  her 
girls  back  with  a  smile  and  a  kiss.  The  old  dog  frisked 
about  and  barked  as  if  he  were  still  a  puppy,  fairly  knocking 
Johnny  down  and  upsetting  one  of  the  traveling  baskets 
which  had  been  set  out  preparatory  to  driving  the  wagon  to 
the  barn.  Johnny  would  have  cried,  ordinarily,  at  such 
rough  usage,  but  now  it  would  have  appeared  out  of  place 
amidst  the  general  rejoicing,  and  so  instead  of  getting  angry  or 
crying,  he  laughed  and  tried  to  mount  and  ride  old  Bose  as  he 
followed  the  girls  and  their  mother  into  the  house.  Erastus 
was  at  work  in  the  fields  when  the  party  arrived,  but  seeing 
the  wagon  drive  up,  he  came  in  immediately.  He  was,  as 
Mr.  Parsons  had  said,  a  man  now,  nearly  six  feet  tall  and 


HE   LAUGHED   AND   TRIED   TO  MOUNT  AND   RIDE   OLD   BOSE  AS  HE   FOL- 
LOWED THE   GIRLS  AND   THEIR   MOTHER  INTO  THE  HOUSE. 
85 


86  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

with  a  manly  air  that  had  just  a  shade  of  embarrassment  in 
it  as  he  kissed  the  girls  in  turn  and  asked  after  their  health. 

Lucy  was  a  little  shy  of  his  caress,  and  turned  her  cheek 
instead  of  putting  up  her  lips  to  receive  the  salute;  but 
Jennie  greeted  him  with  the  old  time  smack  and  even  re- 
peated it  twice  before  she  released  him.  Then  she  broke 
out  with  : 

"  Oh !  'Ras,  father  says  you're  thinking  of  getting 
married.  I  don't  believe  it,  though.  Say,  is  it  so  ?  Are 
you  going  to  marry  Mary  Jones  ?  'Cause  I  know  Mary  al- 
ways liked  you,  though  she  would  never  own  it.  Say,  'Ras, 
is  it  really  true  ? " 

Poor  'Ras  !  The  blood  rushed  into  his  cheeks,  and  gave 
them  a  tinge  of  red  beneath  the  brown  tan,  and  he  glanced  at 
Lucy,  and  moved  away  toward  the  porch,  and  then  he  looked 
a  little  foolish  and  finally  vexed;  and  then  the  idea  ap- 
peared to  strike  him  as  being  ludicrous  somehow,  and  he 
laughed. 

"  You  know  better  than  that,  Jen,"  he  said;  "I  never 
cared  for  Mary  Jones,  or  any  other  of  the  girls;  and,  be- 
sides, Mary  is  going  to  be  married  to  Joe  Bronson,  week 
after  next,  and  we  are  all  invited  to  the  wedding." 

"  Oh,  'Ras,  is  that  so  ?  Why  didn't  you  write  us  about 
it  ? "  said  Lucy,  suddenly  turning  and  coming  back.  And 
then  both  girls  began: 

"  Where  are  they  to  be  married  ?  " 

"At  Mrs.  Jones',  I  suppose." 

"We'll  go,  of  course." 

"  Wonder  what  Mary  will  be  married  in  ?" 

"Are  they  going  on  a  wedding  tour  ? " 

"  What  day  next  week  is  it  to  be  ? " 

"  Who  is  going  to  marry  them  ? " 

"  Bet  I  wouldn't  have  old  Mr.  Peters  marry  me;  he  is 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  87 

the  homeliest  man  I  ever  saw.  Be  just  like  him  to  forget 
their  names  and  marry  Mary  to  somebody  else." 

"  Who's  going  to  stand  up  with  them  ? " 

"  Will  it  be  at  night  or  in  the  morning  ?" 

"  Where  are  they  going  to  live  ?  " 

"  Has  Joe  got  a  ranch  of  his  own  ? " 

"  Wonder  how  Joe  managed  it,  anyway ;  he  used  to  be 
awfully  bashful." 

And  a  dozen  other  questions,  without  waiting  for  an  an- 
swer. 

"  Come,  girls;  come  Erastus,  dinner's  all  ready,  and  your 
father  's  coming  in  from  the  barn,"  called  Mrs.  Parsons  from 
the  kitchen.  "  Come  and  let's  see  how  it  will  seem,  to  all 
eat  together  once  more." 

As  they  passed  out  ahead  of  him,  and  all  the  time  as  they 
sat  at  dinner,  Erastus  kept  thinking  how  beautiful  Lucy  had 
grown.  He  had  never  noticed  it  before,  but  it  seemed  to 
him  now  that  Jennie  really  looked  plain  beside  her  sister. 


88  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

CHAPTER  X. 

A    SURPRISED    ENGLISHMAN. 

"Hi  say  !  'Ello,  the  'ouse  ! 

"Would  you  be  kind  enough  to  haccommodate  us  with 
a  night's  hentertainment  ?" 

John  Parsons  was  resting  in  his  arm  chair,  with  Lucy 
and  Johnny  near  by  upon  the  porch,  when  his  ears  were  thus 
saluted.  There  was  something  in  the  tone  of  voice  in  which 
the  words  were  uttered,  or  in  the  presence  of  the  speaker  as 
he  turned  and  saw  him,  which  on  the  instant  prompted  a 
thought  of  denying  the  request.  Perhaps  it  was  that  he  was 
1  not  in  his  usual  cheerful  mood. 

For  some  time  after  his  return  from  San  Francisco,  where 
he  had  heard  the  system  of  hydraulic  mining  described,  and 
accidentally  learned  that  arrangements  were  being  made  by 
a  company  to  begin  work  somewhere  in  the  adjoining  county 
above  him,  there  had  been  days  when  he  had  been  gravely 
silent,  if  not  moody;  but  as  several  weeks  passed  and  he 
heard  nothing  more  regarding  it,  this  feeling  had  worn  off, 
and  he  had  resumed  his  usual  jovial  look  and  bearing.  But  only 
that  morning  while  at  the  Landing  he  had  learned  that  the 
supplies  for  the  mine  were  being  sent  up,  and  that  the  flume 
which  was  to  furnish  the  water  was  already  under  way,  and 
at  once  all  his  moodiness  returned,  and  all  that  afternoon  he 
had  been  silent  and  thoughtful;  not  even  Johnny,  who  was 
his  constant  companion  when  about  the  ranch,  being  able  to 
draw  him  into  conversation  or  bring  a  smile  to  his  face. 

The  company  which  owned  the  mine,  so  he  had  been  told, 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  89 

was  composed,  in  part  at  least,  of  Englishmen;  and  although 
he  had  no  prejudice  against  the  English,  and  had  once  in 
his  own  mining  days  worked  in  partnership  with  an  English- 
man, and  had  now  no  reason  to  suppose  that  the  owner  of 
the  voice  which  he  heard  asking  for  a  night's  lodging  had 
any  connection  with  the  company  upon  whose  mining  oper- 
ations he  was  meditating  so  gloomily,  yet  the  two  facts,  that 
Englishmen  were  interested  in  the  enterprise,  and  that  the 
party  addressing  him  was  an  Englishman,  somehow  formed 
a  connection  in  his  mind  and  tempted  him  to  do  what  he 
never  yet  had  done — refuse  to  extend  the  hospitalities  of  his 
house  to  strangers  in  need  of  a  night's  lodging. 

As  quickly  as  it  came  however  this  thought  was  dismissed, 
and  he  advanced  to  meet  and  welcome  the  strangers. 

"I  reckon  you  kin  stay,  strangers;  an'  welcome  to  such 
as  we  have.  Maybe  it  isn't  as  good  as  ye  have  seen,  but 
then  agin  you  may  see  wus  if  you  are  goin'  fur  up  into  the 
mountains.  Jest  ride  yer  animals  'round  the  back  way  and 
they'll  be  seed  to,"  and  he  opened  the  front  gate  before 
which  the  strangers  were  sitting  upon  their  horses  and  led 
the  way  to  the  gate  opening  into  the  barn  lot. 

"  Light  down,"  he  said,  "  an'  come  in." 

There  were  three  men  in  the  party;  the  one  who  had 
acted  as  spokesman  being,  as  his  speech  indicated,  an  Eng- 
lishman, and  one  of  the  capitalists  who  were  interested  in 
the  hydraulic  mining  operations  of  which  Mr.  Parsons  had 
recently  heard.  He  had  come  out  from  England  to  see  for 
himself  and  his  English  partners  if  things  were  being  pro- 
perly managed,  and  to  get  a  better  knowledge  of  the  actual 
value  of  the  claims  held  by  the  company. 

He  had  stopped  in  New  York  to  consult  with  those  who 
were  furnishing  the  other  half  of  the  capital;  and  the  son  of 
one  of  these  capitalists  had  come  on  with  him,  not  exactly 


90  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

as  a  representative  of  any  portion  of  the  stockholders  there, 
for  they  already  had  one  of  their  number  in  charge  at  the 
mines,  but  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  the  world  and  learning 
something  of  business.  His  name  was  James  Annelsey. 

The  third  member  of  the  little  party  was  Silas  Ensign,  a 
workman  in  the  employ  of  the  Hydraulic  Mining  company, 
who  had  been  sent  down  to  Sacramento  to  obtain  some  bit 
of  machinery  needed,  or  to  carry  an  order  for  supplies,  and 
who  had  chanced  to  meet  with  and  was  now  guiding  his  com- 
panions to  the  mines. 

"  Hi  say,  but  this  is  a  'orrid  dusty  country,"  remarked  Mr. 
Jobbers  as  he  alighted  from  his  saddle.  "  Hensign,  you  see 
to  the  'orses,  an'  then  you  can  come  in  halso,"  he  added  as 
he  and  Annelsey  turned  to  follow  Mr.  Parsons  who  led  the 
way  to  the  pump,  where  an  opportunity  was  given  them  to 
wash,  after  which  they  were  requested  to  enter  the  sitting- 
room  and  make  themselves  at  home  while  their  host  returned 
to  assist  Ensign  in  caring  for  the  animals,  Erastus  not  being 
present  at  the  moment. 

When  Mr.  Parsons  returned  with  Ensign,  and  the  two 
were  washing  at  the  pump,  Erastus  joined  them,  and  together 
the  three  entered  the  room  to  which  Mr.  Jobbers  and  Annel- 
sey had  already  preceded  them. 

"This  is  Mr.  Hemmingway,  strangers;  a  member  of  my 
family,"  said  Mr.  Parsons,  introducing  Erastus. 

"  'Ow  do  you  do,  Mr.  "Emmingway,"  said  Mr.  Jobbers, 
extending  a  red  and  rather  fleshy  hand,  speaking  deliberately 
and  with  a  slight  accent  upon  the  first  and  last  word  of  each 
sentence,  "'ow  do  you  do?  Hi  'ope  Hi  see  you  well." 

Erastus  assured  him  that  he  was  in  good  health  and  ex- 
pressed the  hope  that  their  guests  were  not  too  greatly  wor- 
ried with  the  jaunt  over  the  hills. 


"  HI  SAY  !  'ELLO,  THE  'OUSE  !  " 


92  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

With  Mr.  Annelsey  he  shook  hands  cordially  as  he  had 
done  with  Ensign  when  meeting  him  at  the  well. 

In  a  few  moments  Mr.  Parsons,  who  had  left  the  room 
after  introducing  Erastus,  returned  and  invited  the  party  out 
to  supper. 

"This  is  my  wife,  and  these  are  my  daughters,"  he  said 
as  the  gentlemen  entered  the  room  where  the  table  was 
spread. 

"'Ow  do  you  do,  ladies?  Hi  ope  Hi  see  you  well."  And 
Mr.  Jobbers,  who  appeared  to  have  one  formal  phrase  for 
the  expression  of  his  pleasure  at  meeting  strangers,  bowed 
low  in  recognition  of  the  introduction. 

The  younger  men  bowed,  also.  Ensign  once,  with  a  re- 
spectful glance  about  the  circle,  Annelsey  to  each  of  the 
ladies  in  turn  and  with  a  slightly  affected  air  and  his  right 
hand  upon  his  heart.  He  was  a  little  surprised,  evidently, 
as  was  also  Mr.  Jobbers,  at  the  degree  of  ease  and  general 
air  of  refinement  that  characterized  the  young  ladies,  and 
desired  to  make  a  good  impression. 

"Hi,  say,  you  'ave  a  huncommonly  fine  place  'ere,"  re- 
marked the  Englishman,  after  they  were  seated  at  the  table, 
"  Hit  is  wonderful  'ow  you  Hamericans  do  things.  Great 
henterprise,  that  of  building  a  railroad  hacross  the  continent. 
Hi  don't  wonder  you  people  hare  proud  of  your  country,  sir. 
'Ow  long,  may  I  hask,  since  you  hopened  this  place, 
sir?" 

"  It's  eight  years  last  fall  since  we  first  camped  on  this 
here  spot,"  returned  Mr.  Parsons,  "and  mighty  rough  campin' 
it  was,  too.  Mother  there,  'n'  the  girls  slept  in  the  wagon 
for  nigh  onto  four  weeks,  while  me  and  'Rastus  took  the 
ground  fer  it  until  the  shanty  was  up  and  the  roof  on.  We 
see  some  purty  hard  times  for  the  first  few  years,  but,  as  you 
say,  we  hev  made  a  good  bit  of  improvement  since  then." 


93 


94  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

"  Hi  should  say  so.  And  you  'ave  done  it  hall  yourselves, 
without  capital  ?" 

"  Yes,  without  any  capital  'ceptin'  a  pair  of  Bosses  and  a 
wagon,  that  brung  mother  and  the  girls  across  the  plains." 

"  Hi  declare;  hif  that  don't  beat  hanything  I've  seen  yet. 
Hi  don't  se  'ow  you  could  get  ahead  without  capital  to  start 
hon." 

"  We  had  the  land  to  commence  with,  and  we  had  good 
health  ginerly;  an'  we  had  willin'  hearts,"  replied  the  host; 
"an"  I  am  of  the  opinion  that  that  is  about  all  the  capital  a 
man  an'  a  woman  needs  to  start  on.  We've  opened  two 
places  afore  this,  besides  addin'  to  the  one  we  begun  on,  and 
have  been  driv'  off  of  'em  all;  an'  I  don't  see  what  anybody 
needs  more  than  an  ekil  chance  with  everybody  else.  I'm 
sure  that's  all  the  men  that  work  for  a  livin'  are  askin'." 

"  Hi  say.  But  there  is  many  a  man  in  Hingland  that 
would  be  glad  of  the  hopportunity  to  make  'im  a  'ome  like 
this.  Hi  know  several  good,  honest  farmers  that  could  raise 
money  enough  to  make  the  trip,  and  when  I  go  back  I  shall 
hadvise  'em  to  come  to  Hamerica,  and  to  California." 

During  the  meal  the  conversation  was  principally  be- 
tween Mr.  Jpbbers  and  Mr.  Parsons,  with  an  occasional 
word  from  Mrs.  Parsons  and  Erastus. 

Ensign  made  no  effort  to  take  part  in  it,  but  devoted  his 
attention  strictly  to  the  business  of  satisfying  his  appetite, 
unless  an  occasional  glance  at  the  young  ladies  may  be  con- 
sidered an  interruption. 

Annelsey  made  several  attempts  to  enter  the  conversa- 
tion, addressing  his  remarks  principally  in  the  direction  of 
Lucy,  who  sat  opposite  to  him,  but,  although  too  sensible  to 
be  really  bashful  in  the  presence  of  strangers,  she  was 
not  sufficiently  self-confident  to  engage  in  a  lengthy  conver- 
sation in  the  presence  of  so  many  gentlemen  whom  she  had 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  95 

never  before  met,  and  so  caused  Annelsey  to  fail  in  his 
efforts  to  be  especially  entertaining.  But  after  supper  was 
over  and  the  girls  had  removed  the  dishes,  and  in  company 
with  their  mother  joined  the  gentlemen  in  the  sitting-room, 
they  found  it  much  more  easy  to  talk  together. 

Mr.  Jobbers  had  communicated  the  fact  of  his  having 
an  interest  in  the  hydraulic  mining  company  to  their  father, 
who  was  listening  very  earnestly  and  attentively  to  what  he 
was  saying  regarding  the  size  of  their  claim,  the  length  of 
the  flume  and  the  power  which  they  expected  to  obtain  from 
so  great  a  fall.  This  gave  the  young  people  an  opportunity 
of  chatting  among  themselves  in  a  less  formal  manner  than 
they  could  have  done  were  their  elders  taking  part  in  the 
conversation. 

Annelsey,  having  just  arrived  on  the  coast,  was  full  of 
the  incidents  of  the  journey,  which  he  had  made  by  rail; 
and  his  references  thereto  naturally  called  up,  on  the  part  of 
the  others  remembrances  of  their  own  far  more  tedious 
journey,  and  soon  they  felt  quite  at  ease  in  each  other's  com- 
pany. 

Then,  too,  Annelsey  had  spent  a  week  in  San  Francisco, 
and  hearing  that  the  girls  were  but  just  returned  from  there, 
found  fresh  food  for  conversation  in  the  objects  of  interest 
in  that  city.  At  first  the  custom  to  which  he  had  been  bred, 
of  lookiflg  upon  a  workman  as  an  inferior  had  shown  itself 
in  his  treatment  of  Ensign,  who  was  but  an  employe  of  the 
company  in  which  his  father  was  a  large  stockholder,  but 
the  perfect  equality  with  which  he  was  received  by  the 
family  of  intelligent  people  beneath  whose  roof  they  were, 
together  with  the  fact  that  Ensign  evidently  had  himself  no 
thought  that  he  was  not  socially  the  equal  of  any,  soon 
forced  the  young  New  Yorker  to  treat  him  as  an  equal;  and 
when  the  time  came  for  retiring,  the  young  people,  with  a 


g6  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

single   exception,   felt   that    they    had    passed   a   pleasant 
evening. 

That  one  exception  was  Erastus. 

He  had  noticed  that  Annelsey  appeared  especially  anx- 
ious to  make  an  impression  upon  Lucy ;  and  without  stop- 
ping to  ask  himself  the  reason  for  it,  was  yet  conscious  that 
his  evening  had  been  spoiled  thereby. 

"  Good-morning,  ladies;  Hi  'ope  I  see  you  well  this 
morning. 

It  was  Mr.  Jobbers  who  had  arisen  and  descended  to  the 
dining-room  on  the  morning  following  the  incidents  just 
related. 

"  Quite  well,  thank  you,"  replied  Mrs.  Parsons.  "I  hope 
you  had  a  good  night's  rest." 

"Hi  never  slept  better  in  my  life.  Riding  'orseback 
hover  the 'ills  gives  one  a  happetite  for  sleep.  And  I'm 
sure  no  one  ever  'ad  better  hopportunities  for  enjoying  it 
than  your  'ospitality  furnished  us,"  he  added,  gallantly. 

Seeing  that  breakfast  was  not  yet  ready,  he  passed  out  on- 
to the  porch,  and  plucking  a  magnificent  rose  from  the  bush 
that  climbed  over  and  shaded  the  whole  side  of  the  house, 
buried  his  nose  several  times  in  its  perfumed  leaves,  and 
then  carelessly  throwing  it  down  as  he  might  have  done  the 
rind  of  an  orange  from  which  he  had  sucked  the  juice, 
sauntered  slowly  off  the  porch,  and  putting  his  thumbs  in 
the  armholes  of  his  vest,  inflated  his  lungs  with  the  pure, 
cool  air  of  the  morning;  meanwhile  looking  out  across  the 
little  valley  with  an  air  of  entire  satisfaction  with  himself 
and  the  world. 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Jobbers,"  said  Mr.  Parsons, coming 
around  the  house  from  the  rear.  "Takin'  in  a  supply  of 
California  air,  I  see.  Reckon  you  don't  have  such  pure  air 
in  London." 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  97 

"  'Ope,  I  see  you  well,  sir.  No,  sir,  the  hatmosphere  in 
London  is  'orridly  beastly  at  times,  but  most  of  us  manage 
to  take  a  run  into  the  country  for  a  change  and  a  little  shoot- 
ing, once  or  twice  a  year;  that  is,  them  that  can  hafford  it. 
Hof  course  the  laboring  folks  can't  hafford  it,  and  what  I 
wonder  is  that  they  don't  hall  leave  Hingland  and  come  to 
Hamerica,  where  they  could  get  pure  hair  and  'omes  for 
their  families.  This  is  a  great  country  for  folks  that  'as  to 
labor,  sir ;  great  country." 

At  this  point  of  their  conversation  they  were  joined  by  all 
three  of  the  young  men,  who  had  risen  before  Mr.  Jobbers 
and  gone  out  to  look  at  the  animals  and  prepare  them  for 
the  day's  journey.  Annelsey  had  at  first  ordered  Ensign  to 
rub  down  the  horses  for  the  party,  but  had  been  told  in  re- 
ply that  he  must  take  care  of  his  own  animal  if  he  expected 
it  done.  He  was  the  employe  of  the  company  and  on  the 
company's  business,  and  not  the  body  servant  of  those  whom 
he  guided  to  the  mines,  Ensign  had  told  him.  He  would 
rub  down  Mr.  Jobbers'  horse  as  a  matter  of  courtesy  to  an 
older  man,  but  as  for  Annelsey,  he  was  able  to  care  for  his 
own  animal,  and  could  do  it  or  leave  it  undone  as  he  chose. 
Accordingly  the  New  Yorker  had  given  such  care  to  the 
animal  which  he  rode  as  served  to  smooth  his  coat,  and  had 
fed  him  from  the  bin  of  oats  which  Erastus  had  shown  them, 
and  then  had  returned  to  the  house.  But  seeing  no  oppor- 
tunity of  speaking  to  either  of  the  young  ladies,  they  being 
busy  with  the  morning  duties,  he  had  remained  for  a  moment 
in  the  sitting-room  and  then  gone  out  to  the  vineyard,  re- 
turning as  he  saw  the  others  coming  toward  the  house  as  if 
in  anticipation  of  breakfast. 

Each  of  the  young  men  respectfully  bid  the  elder  ones 
good  morning,  to  which  John  Parsons  replied  with  a  hearty 

"Good  morning,  boys,  good  morning." 
7 


98  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

Mr.  Jobbers  "'oped  he  saw  them  well." 
Being  summoned  to  breakfast  they  entered  the  house, 
and  gathered  about  the  table. 

Ensign  and  Annelsey,  both  of  whom  were  feeling  a  little 
out  of  humor  over  their  recent  tilt  about  the  care  of  the 
horses,  had  their  good  nature  fully  restored  in  the  presence 
of  the  young  ladies,  who  greeted  them  with  smiles  and  plea- 
sant "good  mornings." 

Had  there  been  no  ladies  present  it  is  possible  that  the 
meal  of  which  they  were  partaking  might  have  had  the  same 
effect.  The  most  delicious  coffee;  fresh  laid  eggs  with  ham; 
the  lightest  of  bread;  the  mealiest  of  potatoes,  and  such  fruit 
as  California  alone  can  produce,  went  to  make  up  a  repast 
which  only  required  the  clear  bracing  air  of  the  climate  to 
render  a  feast  fit  for  any  occasion  and  any  company. 

Mr.  Jobbers  was  profuse  in  his  compliments.  He  had  dined 
with  the  Honorable  Mr.  So-and-so,  and  been  present  at  the 
public  banquet  of  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  but  he  had 
never  eaten  a  meal  "more  satisfying  to  the  happetite"  than 
the  one  before  him;  and  he  ended  his  remarks  on  that  sub- 
ject, as  he  frequently  did,  with  the  assertion  that  on  his  re- 
turn to  England  he  should  advise  all  the  farmers  whom  he  saw 
to  emigrate  at  once  to  California. 

Breakfast  over,  Ensign  went  immediately  out  and  brought 
around  his  own  horse  and  that  of  Mr.  Jobbers.  Annelsey 
lingered  behind,  anxious  for  a  few  words  with  Lucy,  and 
hoping  that  Ensign  would  bring  his  animal  with  the  others. 
But  in  this  he  was  disappointed,  as  Ensign  led  out  two  only; 
and  but  that  Erastus,  not  willing  to  appear  lacking  in  court- 
esy to  their  guests  led  out  the  remaining  animal,  he  would 
have  found  himself  behind  at  the  starting. 

Hitching  the  horses  at  the  front  gate,  Ensign  returned  to 
the  house  to  thank  the  family  for  their  hospitality.  Annelsey 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN*.  99 

attempted  to  prevent  this  by  hastening  his  own  departure  and 
that  of  Mr.  Jobbers,  but  Ensign  had  too  clear  a  perception 
of  what  was  due  their  host  to  leave  without  a  word  of  thanks 
for  hospitalities  enjoyed,  and  left  his  companions — who  were 
ignorant  of  the  direction  to  be  taken — to  await  him  at  the 
gate  while  he  paid  his  respects  to  the  family. 

He  did  not  offer  to  pay,  as  Mr.  Jobbers  and  Mr.  Annelsey 
had  done,  for  he  knew  the  customs  of  the  people  and  that 
pay  was  neither  expected  nor  desired;  but  he  thanked  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Parsons  for  their  kindness  and  gave  expression  to 
a  desire  to  be  of  service  to  the  family  in  return — should  op- 
portunity offer. 

Then,  bidding  all  good-bye,  he  rejoined  his  companions, 
and  together  the  three  resumed  their  journey. 


100  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEAJ 

CHAPTER  XI. 

THE   PICNIC. 
* 

The  picnic  which  John  Parsons  had  told  the  girls  was 
being  gotten  up  for  their  home  coming  by  the  young  people 
of  the  neighborhood,  was  held  a  week  later  than  the  events 
recorded  in  our  last  chapter.  The  place  selected  for  the 
day's  enjoyment  was  a  beautiful  grove  on  the  banks  of  a 
little  lake  that  lay  nestled  in  the  bosom  of  the  hills  some 
seven  or  eight  miles  from  the  Parsons  cottage. 

Early  in  the  morning  the  young  people  started  for  the 
rendezvous.  Most  were  on  horseback,  for  among  the  hills 
the  ladies,  almost  as  much  as  the  men,  were  accustomed  to 
the  saddle.  In  the  spring  wagons,  with  those  who  chose  this 
mode  of  conveyance  was  placed  the  cakes  and  roasted  fowls, 
with  bread  and  butter  and  fruits,  which  were  to  furnish  the 
repast. 

Among  those  who  elected  to  go  on  horseback  were 
Jennie  and  Lucy  Parsons  and  Erastus  Hemmingway. 

By  a  previous  understanding  a  dozen  of  the  young  people 
of  both  sexes  met  at  the  Parsons  cottage,  from  whence  they 
started  together.  These  were  joined  on  the  way  by  others, 
making  a  gay  and  jolly  cavalcade  that  waked  the  echoes  in 
the  foot-hills  with  their  merry  laughter  and  started  the  quails 
from  their  hiding  places  in  the  wild  oats.  Some  of  the  more 
venturesome  ran  races  across  the  bits  of  level  ground  between 
the  hills.  Now  and  then  a  couple  would  drop  behind  their 
companions  and  exchange  a  look  or  word  of  endearment,  for 
it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  in  California,  more  than  else- 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  IOI 

where,  thirty  young  people — young  men  and  young  women 
— could  come  together,  and  that  among  them  all  there  should 
be  none  whose  hearts  had  been  touched  by  the  boy  with  the 
bow  and  arrows. 

In  the  main,  however,  they  held  their  ranks  well  enough 
to  be  able  to  exchange  merry  jokes  and  witty  repartee.  Now 
they  sang  a  verse  of  some  song  in  concert;  now  bantered 
each  other  with  accusations  of  loneliness  because  of  the  ab- 
sence of  some  lad  or  maiden  who  perchance  had  found 
another  partner  for  the  day,  or  been  detained  at  home  by 
some  untoward  circumstance. 

In  all  this  merriment  Jennie  and  Lucy  Parsons  took  full 
part  and  share.  Usually  Jennie  was  more  sedate  and  quiet 
than  her  sister,  but  to-day  was  the  first  time  for  months  that 
she  had  been  on  horseback  among  the  hills,  and  the  pent-up 
gaiety  of  her  nature  found  outlet,  and  she  rivaled  them  all 
in  merry  speech  and  reckless  riding. 

Arriving  at  the  grove  they  found  a  platform  erected  for 
dancing  and  two  musicians  ready  with  their  violins.  Very 
soon  others  who  were  to  be  of  the  party,  but  who  were  later 
in  starting  or  had  come  a  greater  distance,  began  to  arrive, 
and  soon  a  half  hundred  gaily  dressed,  light-hearted  young 
people  were  on  the  ground. 

Then  the  violins  were  tuned  up  and  dancing  began. 

When  tired  of  dancing  they  sat  in  the  shade  of  the  live 
oaks  and  laughed  and  chatted,  or  wandered  away  two  and 
two,  and  spoke  low,  and  looked  love,  and  maybe  planned  for 
a  future  to  be  spent  in  each  other's  society.  Or  they  rowed 
on  the  lake,  six  or  eight  in  one  light  skiff  that  had  but  a 
single  pair  of  oars,  and  sunk  so  low  with  their  weight  that 
when  some  one  among  their  number  moved,  it  dipped  almost 
to  the  water's  edge,  causing  screams,  half  of  fright  and  half 
of  pure  joyousness,  to  issue  from  lips  as  red  and  ripe  as  red 


102  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

raspberries  in  July,  and  which  were  a  temptation  as  hard  to 
be  resisted  by  those  young  men  as  are  the  berries  to  boys 
who  gaze  at  them  through  a  crack  in  the  enclosure  within 
which  they  grow  and  ripen  in  the  sun. 

And  if,  sometimes,  the  temptation  was  too  great  to  be 
overcome,  and  some  bold  youth  took  advantage  of  the  help- 
lessness of  a  maiden,  who  feared,  or  thought  that  she  feared, 
to  struggle,  lest  she  overturn  the  boat,  and  preferred  being 
kissed  to  getting  wet,  why,  what  business  is  it  of  mine,  or  of 
yours,  my  dear  sirs  ?  There  are  other  lips  as  red  and  ripe 
awaiting  to  be  kissed,  and  there  are  other  lakes  and  other 
boats  with  single  oars,  and  otheissunny  days  and  starry  nights 
to  come.  Then  why  should  we  linger  over  this  picture  of  a 
golden  day  that  is  past;  of  red  lips  and  ripened  fruit  that 
were  not  for  us ;  that  were  gathered  by  others  on  this 
beautiful  day  in  spring,  away  off  in  the  foot-hills  of  Cali- 
fornia ? 

When  the  sun  became  too  fierce  in  its  reflection  from  the 
calm  .waters  of  the  lake,  they  gathered  themselves  in  little 
knots,  all  near  together,  and  the  provisions  were  brought 
from  the  spring  wagons,  and  spread  upon  clean  linen  cloths 
on  the  ground,  and  they  ate,  and  drank  lightly  of  their  na- 
tive wines,  and  laughed  and  called  back  and  forth,  and 
twittered  just  as  did  the  birds  that  had  taken  shelter  from 
the  sun  in  the  leaves  above  them;  and  were  as  happy  and  as 
free  from  care. 

While  they  were  thus  engaged  there  approached  two 
men;  strangers  they  at  first  appeared  to  all.  Each  carried  a 
fishing  pole  and  basket.  The  younger  one  was  dressed  in  a 
very  handsome  suit,  resembling  those  seen  in  pictures  of 
English  life  and  supposed  to  be  worn  only  by  very  wealthy 
gentlemen  when  engaged  in  hunting  or  fishing. 

The  other  was  a  much  older  man,  dressed  in  the  garb  of 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  103 

a  citizen  of  the  locality;  and  might  have  been  either  a  miner 
or  a  farmer;  and  was,  in  fact,  an  employe  of  the  Hydraulic 
Mining  Company,  for  whom  Mr.  Annelsey — for  the  young 
man  in  the  English  hunting  suit  was  none  other  than  he — 
had  obtained  leave  of  absence  that  he  might  accompany 
himself  as  guide  and  game  carrier. 

Perhaps  young  Annelsey  had  come  simply  for  a  day's 
fishing  in  the  lake.  Many  a  man  had  gone  farther  with  less 
sure  promise  of  being  rewarded  for  his  labor  by  the  casting 
of  a  hook  and  line.  Perhaps  he  had  learned  from  some 
casually  dropped  sentence  of  Erastus,  or  one  of  the  girls, 
during  the  evening  passed  in  their  father's  cottage,  that  a 
picnic  was  on  the  tapis,  and  the  day  and  the  spot  where  it 
was  to  be.  Perhaps  he  had  learned  from  them  only  the  fact 
that  one  was  to  be  held  on  a  fixed  day,  and  by  inquiry  had 
ascertained  where  the  most  pleasant  spot  for  holding  such 
gatherings  was,  and  had  taken  the  risk  and  now  found  him- 
self rewarded  by  finding  those  whom  he  sought.  Perhaps 
— but  why  assign  a  reason  at  all  for  his  coming. 

He  had  leisure.  He  could  come  and  go  as  it  pleased 
him,  and  he  had  pleased  to  make  a  trip  to  the  lake  of 
which  he  had  heard,  and  to  take  with  him  the  fishing  tackle 
which  he  had  brought  from  New  York.  And  he  had  found 
on  the  banks  of  the  lake  a  company  of  young  people,  two 
or  three  of  whom  he  had  met  before;  what  more  natural 
than  that  he  should  join  them,  and  if  made  welcome,  spend 
the  afternoon  in  their  company  ? 

He  advanced  toward  the  group  of  which  our  friends 
formed  a  part;  greeted  the  young  ladies  in  a  gay  manner 
and  shook  hands  very  cordially  with  Erastus,  and  was  made 
welcome  and  bidden  to  "  eat,  drink  and  be  merry,  for  he  was 
a  long  way  from  home  and  would  regret  it  if  he  ever  showed 
any  backwardness  in  accepting  invitations  to  eat  while 


104  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

among  the  foot  -  hills  and  breathing  the  appetite  -  creating 
atmosphere  of  California." 

When  the  lunch  was  eaten  he  was  introduced  to  others 
and  invited  to  take  part  in  the  dance;  for  in  the  country 
there  is  less  formality  than  in  the  city,  and  in  new  countries 
less  than  in  old  ones;  and  here  every  well  appearing  stranger 
was  treated  as  a  friend  and  introduced  freely  to  all,  and  by 
all — a  confidence  less  frequently  betrayed  than  might  be  ex- 
pected by  those  who  do  not  know  that  hearts  not  altogether 
hardened  are  always  prompted  to  exhibit  whatever  quality 
of  honor  or  goodness  those  whom  they  respect  credit  them 
with. 

It  may  be,  too,  that  a  knowledge  that  a  betrayal  of  such 
confidences  generally  met  a  punishment  as  swift  as  it  was 
severe,  had  a  restraining  influence  upon  those  who  were  by 
nature  bad. 

Be  these  things  as  they  may,  those  who  are  themselves 
free  from  guile,  ever  were,  and  ever  will  be  slow  to  suspect 
evil  of  others,  and  consequently  ready  to  receive  and  treat 
as  friends  all  who  have  the  outward  appearance  of  re- 
spectability and  goodness.  And  what  company  of  young 
ladies  ever  failed  to  look  with  favor,  more  or  less  skillfully 
concealed,  upon  the  entrance  into  their  circle  of  a  young 
gentleman  whose  appearance  gave  promise  that  he  would 
at  least  be  an  agreeable  partner  for  their  festivities.  And 
if  the  gentlemen  were  at  all  disposed  to  be  jealous  of  one 
whose  wealth  or  knowledge  of  the  world  and  the  ways  of 
polite  society,  might  give  him  an  advantage  over  them  in 
the  eyes  of  their  lady-loves,  they  still  could  not  act  the  part 
of  boors  and  thus  themselves  prove  his  superiority  over 
them. 

And  so  Annelsey's  way  to  mingle  freely  with  all  was 
made  easy,  and  right  well  he  improved  it.  He  danced  not 


106  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

only  with  Lucy  and  Jennie  Parsons,  but  with  a  dozen  others; 
but  he  sought  Lucy  for  a  partner  oftenest,  and  when  they 
went  for  another  sail  upon  the  lake  he  was  still  at  her  side, 
and  would  have  been  pleased  to  have  rowed  with  her  alone, 
but  he  was  unaccustomed  to  the  use  of  the  oars,  besides 
which  he  feared  that  she  might  refuse  him,  and  so  contented 
himself  with  keeping  as  near  to  her  as  possible  in  a  boat  in 
which  were  a  half-dozen  others. 

Erastus  noticed  Annelsey's  evident  preference  for  Lucy, 
and  was  ill  at  ease. 

Whether  it  were  true  or  not,  he  believed  that  the  New 
Yorker  had  learned  of  the  picnic  and  came  purposely  to  re- 
new his  acquaintance  with  her  ;  and  although  he  did  not 
acknowledge  to  himself  that  he  loved  Lucy  other  than  as  a 
sister,  he  yet  did  not  like  this  stranger  with  his  stylish  clothes, 
his  gold  watch  and  chain,  and  other  evidences  of  wealth  and 
position,  to  be  crowding  in  between  them;  and  when  he  saw, 
or  thought  he  saw,  that  Lucy  was  pleased  with  the  attention 
shown  her  by  his  rival,  as  he  now  began  to  regard  him,  he 
became  actually  jealous,  and  half  wished  that  the  train 
which  had  brought  Annelsey  from  the  States  had  plunged 
down  one  of  the  precipices  he  was  so  fond  of  mentioning  as 
among  the  dangers  he  had  escaped. 

Then  realizing  the  awfulness  of  the  thought,  he  amended 
it  to  wishing  Annelsey  might  fall  into  the  water  and  wet  the 
plush  hunting  suit  which  made  him  so  noticeable  among  his 
more  plainly  dressed  fellows. 

"As  if  we  had  never  seen  any  grand  scenery,"  he  said, 
mentally,  when  Annelsey  was  describing  some  of  the  scenes 
on  the  line  of  the  road  which  he  had  passed  over.  And 
then  he  tried  to  make  himself  believe  that  Annelsey  would 
not  have  known  that  the  scenery  was  grand  and  wonderful 
if  somebody  had  not  pointed  it  out  to  him. 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  107 

Then  again  he  pictured  his  rival  as  shrinking  back  and 
covering  his  eyes  lest  his  head  be  turned  at  sight  of  this 
magnificent  scenery — this  almost  bottomless  abyss,  upon  the 
edge  of  which  his  train  wound,  by  describing  which  he 
fancied  the  New  Yorker  was  seeking  to  draw  attention  to 
himself.  He  tried,  however,  not  to  show  that  he  objected 
to  Annelsey's  presence,  or  attention  to  Lucy,  by  avoiding 
her  and  paying  court  to  Julia  Ennis,  the  daughter  of  a 
neighbor  who  had  lately  come  among  them. 

Neither  was  Erastus  the  only  one  who  was  inclined  to 
look  upon  the  stranger  as  an  interloper,  for  Lucy  Parsons 
was  a  favorite  with  the  young  men  of  the  neighborhood. 
Her  fresh  young  face  and  lively  mien,  as  well  as  her  kindly 
nature,  attracted  to  her  all  with  whom  she  came  in  contact 
And  to-day,  dressed  all  in  white  except  a  bit  of  color  at  her 
throat,  with  her  clear  complexion  rendered  more  beautiful  by 
the  few  months  of  comparative  close  confinement  at  school, 
showing  yet  more  plainly  in  contrast  with  the  other  girls, 
whose  cheeks  and  arms  were  tanned  by  exposure  to  the  wind 
and  sun  and  in  the  labor  of  the  household,  and  maybe  the 
vineyard,  it  is  no  wonder  that  she  attracted  universal  homage, 
and  that  more  than  one  of  the  little  company  wished  that 
Annelsey  would  return  to  the  city  whence  he  came  and  leave 
them  to  contend  among  themselves  for  the  favor  of  the  most 
beautiful  maiden  in  all  the  circle  of  their  acquaintance. 

When  the  party  broke  up  and  the  revelers  were  about  to 
mount  their  horses  for  the  homeward  ride,  Erastus  noticed 
Annelsey  press  close  to  Lucy  and  speak  to  her  in  a  low  tone. 
He  also  saw  Lucy  blush,  but  could  only  judge  from  Annel- 
sey's demeanor  that  Lucy's  reply  to  his  words,  whatever 
they  were,  had  not  been  unpleasant  to  him. 
,  When  they  were  mounted  and  on  the  point  of  starting, 
some  one  remarked  to  Mr.  Annelsey  that  if  he  was  intending 


Io8  DRIVEN   FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

to  return  to  the  mining  camp  that  night  he  would  have  to 
ride  late  ;  to  which  he  replied  that  he  should  camp  on  the 
spot  where  they  were  and  should  spend  another  day,  possibly 
several  of  them,  in  fishing  and  hunting  in  the  vicinity. 

The  homeward  ride  of  the  merry-makers  was  made  at 
such  paces  as  suited  the  fancy  of  each.  A  dozen  of  the 
young  people  only,  retained  each  other's  company  during  the 
entire  distance.  The  others  lagged  behind,  and  then  dropped 
off  into  couples,  and  so  rode  homeward  over  the  dusky  hills 
in  the  twilight — a  twilight  which  was  first  golden  and  then 
purple,  gradually  changing  into  darkness  not  so  great  as  to 
make  traveling  dangerous  or  difficult,  but  dark  enough  to  set 
the  crickets  to  chirping  ;  dark  enough  to  hide  the  blush  of  a 
maiden  whose  lover  was  tempted  to  tell  again  the  story  first 
told  in  the  garden  of  Eden,  and  retold  by  every  generation 
since;  too  dark  to  enable  them  to  see  the  night  birds  that 
called  to  each  other  from  the  roadside  until  frightened  into 
taking  wing  by  the  near  approach  of  the  riders. 


OR,  JUST    A   CAMPIN  .  109 

CHAPTER  XII. 

COURTSHIP. 

The  second  day  after  the  picnic  Mr.  Annelsey  called  at 
the  Parsons  cottage,  and  was  met  at  the  door  by  Lucy  and 
invited  into  the  sitting-room.  Her  demeanor  showed  clearly 
that  his  coming  was  not  unexpected,  but  whether  it  caused 
her  more  pleasure  than  embarrassment  would  not  have  been 
so  easy  to  determine. 

Mr.  Annelsey  himself  had  no  doubt  about  it,  however. 
Had  she  not  told  him  on  parting  at  the  lake  that  he  might 
call,  and  was  she  not  blushing  and  embarrassed  now  ?  What 
better  proof  could  he  desire  that  she  was  pleased  and  flat- 
tered by  his  attentions  ? 

None,  he  thought,  and  he  was  correspondingly  elated  and 
became  really  entertaining  in  relating  his  experience  in  camp- 
ing at  the  lake  and  at  the  mine — an  experience  which  to  him 
possessed  all  the  pleasure  of  novelty. 

Lucy  had  intended  to  tell  her  mother  and  Jennie  that 
Mr.  Annelsey  had  asked  permission  to  call  on  her,  but  had 
not  found  courage  to  do  so,  and  not  knowing  at  what  time 
to  expect  his  coming,  had  deferred  speaking  of  it,  hoping 
some  opportunity  would  arise  without  herself  having  to 
introduce  the  subject. 

But  although  the  family  did  not  know  that  he  had 
requested  permission  to  call,  it  is  probable  that  they  were  not 
greatly  surprised  at  seeing  him.  They  knew  him  to  be  in 
the  neighborhood,  and  perhaps  others  besides  Erastus  sus- 


110  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

pected  that  his  appearance  at  the  picnic  was  not  purely  acci- 
dental. 

Although  the  young  man  had  called  especially  to  see 
Lucy,  Jennie  was  perhaps  more  pleased  at  his  coming  than 
her  sister,  or  than  any  other  member  of  the  family.  She 
liked  him  exactly  as  she  liked  other  young  men  who  were 
pleasant  company,  and  hoped  he  would  remain  in  the  vicinity 
and  take  part  in  their  occasional  pastimes  during  the  sum- 
mer ;  and  she  had  none  of  Lucy's  feelings  of  being  made 
conspicuous  by  having  been  selected  as  an  object  of  especial 
attention  by  him. 

As  for  their  mother,  she  saw  nothing  objectionable  in  the 
young  man.  He  was  gentlemanly,  and  appeared  to  her 
to  be  as  moral  as  other  young  men;  and  what  mother  was 
ever  offended  that  a  young  man  of  wealth  and  standing  in 
society  saw  attractions  in  her  daughter  which  he  did  not 
see  in  the  daughters  of  others  ? 

Mr.  Annelsey  was  given  a  cordial  invitation  to  remain  to 
tea ;  an  invitation  which  he  was  not  slow  in  accepting,  and 
so  met  Mr.  Parsons  and  Erastus,  both  of  whom  treated 
him  courteously,  though  the  greeting  of  the  younger  man 
was  certainly  not  excessive  in  its  cordiality;  and  who,  as 
soon  as  the  meal  was  over,  made  an  excuse  to  leave  the 
house  and  did  not  return  until  Annelsey  had  departed. 

On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Parsons  was  pleased  that  he  had 
called,  and  showed  it.  He  wanted  to  see  him.  He  wanted 
to  learn  how  the  work  at  the  mine  was  getting  on  and  how 
soon  they  would  probably  be  ready  to  turn  on  the  water  and 
begin  washing  down  the  hills,  and  his  manner  was  such  as  to 
still  further  imbue  Annelsey  with  the  idea  that  he  was  held  in 
high  favor  and  that  Lucy  and  her  parents  felt  honored  by 
his  attentions. 

In  reply  to  Mr.  Parsons'  questions  he  told  him  that  the 


OR,  JUST    A    C AMPIN  .  Ill 

work  on  the  flume  which  was  to  conduct  the  water  to  the 
reservoir  was  progressing  rapidly — a  portion  of  it  over  two 
miles  long  having  been  completed;  that  the  remaining  mile 
would  be  finished  by  the  time  the  tunnel  and  the  sluice  for* 
carrying  away  the  debris  and  saving  the  gold  would  be 
ready,  which  would  probably  be  in  about  three  months,  and 
that  then  they  would  be  ready  for  active  operations. 

Not  wishing  to  wear  his  welcome  out,  he  declined  an  in- 
vitation to  remain  at  the  cottage  over  night  and  returned  to 
his  camp  by  the  lake,  where  his  guide  awaited  him,  and  on 
the  following  day  again  took  possession  of  the  quarters 
assigned  him  at  the  mining  camp,  which  already  aspired  to 
be  called  a  town,  a  number  of  clapboard  shanties  and  a 
lodging  house  with  the  usual  bar-room  attachment  having 
been  erected. 

It  was  not  long  before  he  was  again  at  the  Parsons  cot- 
tage; and  soon  it  came  to  be  expected  that  he  would  make 
one  of  any  company  of  young  people  that  assembled  for  a 
merry-making  in  the  neighborhood.  If  he  did  not  always 
escort  Lucy  he  spent  a  great  portion  of  the  time  at  all  these 
gatherings  in  her  company,  and  her  companions  were  con- 
stantly reminding  her  in  a  laughing  way  that  she  had  cap- 
tured the  young  New  Yorker,  whom  rumor  asserted  was  heir 
to  a  million  or  two. 

All  this  was  a  source  of  great  annoyance  to  Erastus,  and 
at  times  caused  him  to  appear  less  gracious,  both  towards 
Mr.  Annelsey  and  others,  than  was  usual  with  him.  With 
Lucy  his  mood  was  changeable,  depending  a  great  deal  upon 
the  frequency  of  his  rival's  visits. 

If  a  week  or  more  elapsed  without  a  call  from  Annelsey, 
Erastus  resumed  his  cheerful  appearance  and  was  seldom 
from  home,  spending  much  of  his  spare  time  in  the  house, 
where  he  laughed  and  joked  with  the  girls  in  the  old  time  way; 


112  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

but  the  appearance  of  Annelsey  was  the  signal  for  a  return 
of  silence  on  his  part,  and  unless  there  was  a  gathering  of 
the  young  folks  from  which  his  absence  might  provoke  com- 
ment, he  remained  as  little  in  the  company  of  the  members 
of  the  family  as  possible,  making  an  excuse  of  a  press  of 
work  on  the  ranch,  or  of  an  appointment  with  some  of  his 
gentleman  friends  to  spend  the  evening  out.  If  he  did 
not,  on  such  occasions,  visit  Julia  Ennis  at  her  father's  resi- 
dence, Lucy  fancied  that  he  did,  and  she  treated  Julia,  when 
they  met,  with  much  cordiality  and  appeared  anxious  to  help 
on  the  intimacy  which  she  thought  existed  between  her  and 
Erastus. 

Of  Mr.  Ensign  the  family  saw  nothing.  Once  or  twice 
some  member  had  inquired  of  Annelsey  regarding  him,  but 
that  gentleman  knew,  or  appeared  to  know,  little  about  him. 
Ensign  was  still  in  the  employ  of  the  company,  he  thought; 
perhaps  swinging  a  pick  in  the  tunnel;  or  maybe  at  work  on 
the  flume.  Having  nothing  to  do  with  the  accounts  or 
directing  the  labors  of  the  workmen,  Mr.  Annelsey  could,  he 
said,  tell  nothing  further  about  him. 

Whether  Mrs.  Parsons  was  pleased  at  the  frequency  of 
Mr.  Annelsey 's  visits  or  not  it  would  have  been  hard  to  tell. 
She  treated  him  courteously,  and  appeared  to  throw  no  ob- 
stacles in  the  way  of  his  attention  to  her  daughter.  If  she 
noticed  the  dislike  which  Erastus  evinced  at  his  presence  she 
held  her  peace  and  said  nothing. 

As  for  her  husband,  he  looked  for  his  coming  with  a 
feverish  impatience  growing  out  of  the  desire  he  had  for 
news  from  the  mining  camp,  which  now  overshadowed  every 
other  thought,  and  caused  him  to  entirely  forget  that  the 
young  man  had  any  purpose  in  visiting  them  except  to  bring 
the  desired  information  regarding  the  progress  of  the  work 


OR,  JTJ3T    A    CAMPIN  .  113 

at  Gravel  Hill,  as  the  cluster  of  shanties  at  the  mines  had 
been  named. 

So  the  summer  passed,  and  again  the  time  approached 
when  the  girls  were  to  return  to  school,  and  preparations 
were  made  for  their  departure. 

"I  almost  wish  we  were  not  going  back,"  said  Jennie,  as 
they  were  packing,  "  we  have  had  such  a  pleasant  summer. 
I  am  sure  I  never  enjoyed  myself  so  much  before  in  all  my 
life,  and  I  awfully  hate  going  back  into  those  dusty  fusty 
little  rooms  in  the  city  and  poring  over  a  lot  of  books  that 
appear  to  have  been  made  on  purpose  to  puzzle  one's  brains 
without  any  corresponding  benefit  to  come  of  it.  I'd  ever 
so  much  rather  stay  at  home  and  help  mother  take  care  of 
the  house  and  the  poultry,  and  go  to  a  party  once  in  a  while. 

"  I  wonder  what  Mr.  Annelsey  will  do  when  we  are  gone  ?" 
she  went  on.  "  Do  you  know,  Luce,  I  believe  he  is  dead  in 
love  with  you  ?  And  he  is  getting  further  and  further  in 
every  day  he  lives.  Here  twice  last  week.  He  couldn't 
more  than  have  got  home  from  the  first  visit  before  he  turned 
right  round  and  came  back  again.  Mrs.  Lucy  Annelsey,  wife 
of  James  Annelsey,  Esq.,  millionaire.  That  sounds  well. 
Believe  I'd  take  him,  if  I  were  you,  Luce,  and  then  I  can 
spend  the  winters  in  New  York  and  catch  a  millionaire,  too, 
maybe.  Did  he  ever  say  anything  about  coming  to  see  you 
when  we  get  back  to  San  Francisco  ? 

i4  Say,"  she  rattled  on,  without  waiting  for  a  reply  to  her 
first  question,  "  what  do  you  s'pose  makes  'Ras  hate  him  so  ? 
Do  you  know  that  if  he  were  not  half  in  love  with  Julia 
Ennis  I  should  think  him  jealous  of  you  ?  Why,  Lucy,  what 
is  the  matter  ?  Didn't  Mr.  Annelsey  ask  you  to  correspond 
with  him,  or  anything  ?" 

"Yes, — he — he — did,  and — and  I  wish  he  hadn't,"  sobbed 


114  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO    SEA; 

Lucy,  putting  both  hands  to  her  face  and  burying  it  in  her 
lap  as  she  sat  on  the  floor  in  front  of  her  open  trunk. 

"  I  wish  I  had  never  seen  him,"  she  continued  between 
sobs.  "  I  wish  he  would  go  back  to  New  York  and  never 
let  me  see  or  hear  from  him  again.  I  never  spent  so  miser- 
able a  summer  in  my  whole  life,  rfever;  and  it's  all  because 
of  him;  and  I  know  poor  pa  is  worried  to  death  for  fear  the 
mine  will  wash  down  upon  the  ranch  and  cover  us  all  up, 
and — and — and  I'm  just  as  miserable  as  I  can  be,  and  it's  all 
his  fault.  We  were  just  as  happy  as  we  could  be  until  he 
came." 

Jennie  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  this  outbreak  of  Lucy's. 
She  had  supposed  her  not  indifferent  to  Mr.  Annelsey's 
attentions;  had  thought,  in  fact,  that  she  was  more  in  love 
with  him  than  she  ever  had  been  with  any  of  her  other  ad- 
mirers. She  had  come  to  this  conclusion  because  Lucy  had 
avoided  talking  about  him  when  they  were  alone;  and  always 
before,  they  had  made  confidants  of  each  other  regarding  any 
of  the  young  men  who  occasionally  escorted  them  to  a  dance 
or  picnic  when  at  home,  or  to  a  lecture  or  the  theatre  when 
in  the  city. 

No  one  who  knew  the  sisters  or  saw  them  together  even 
for  an  hour,  could  doubt  their  affection  for  each  other;  and 
Jennie,  believing  that  Lucy  really  loved  Mr.  Annelsey,  had 
more  than  once  caught  herself  drawing  mental  pictures  of 
her  as  his  wife,  surrounded  with  all  the  luxuries  which  wealth 
could  purchase;  supplementing  it  with  another  picture  in 
which  she  saw  herself  appearing  at  one  of  the  grand  enter- 
tainments which  Lucy  and  her  husband  would  give  in  their 
palatial  New  York  home,  and  being  introduced  to  society  as 
"the  sister  of  Mrs.  Annelsey,  who  had  come  from  California 
to  spend  the  winter." 

It  never  occurred  to  her  that  Lucy  could  be  in  love  with 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  115 

anybody  else,  and  now  she  fancied  that  some  slight  misun- 
derstanding had  arisen  between  them,  and  that  Lucy  was 
troubled  for  fear  that  Annelsey  would  not  write  or  would 
not  seek  her  out  when  he  came  to  San  Francisco.  She  felt 
sure  he  would  come  to  the  city  soon,  for  there  was  nothing 
to  necessitate  his  staying  at  the  mines,  which  would  not  be  a 
very  inviting  place  for  a  young  man  of  leisure  when  the 
rains  set  in  and  rendered  hunting  and  fishing  impossible  for 
weeks  at  a  time. 

"  Never  mind,"  she  said,  making  an  effort  to  comfort  her 
sister.  "  It  will  come  out  all  right  in  the  end.  The  course 
of  true  love  never  did  run  smooth,  you  know." 

This  thought  seemed  to  comfort  Lucy,  and  something 
very  like  a  smile  played  for  a  moment  about  her  mouth,  and 
among  the  dimples  in  her  cheeks. 

Jennie  did  not  see  the  smile,  for  her  sister's  face  was 
still  buried  in  her  apron;  but  she  noticed  that  the  sobbing 
ceased  and  was  strengthened  in  her  belief  regarding  Lucy's 
feelings  for  Mr.  Annelsey,  and  wishing  to  comfort  her  still 
further,  she  continued: 

"  Father  has  been  driven  off  of  so  many  pieces  of  land  that 
I  do  not  wonder  he  is  afraid  something  will  happen  him 
again,  though  I  don't  suppose  there  is  any  danger  that  this 
place  will  be  overflowed  by  the  debris  from  the  mines.  I 
don't  see  how  it  can  be  when  they  are  twenty  miles  away. 
Mr.  Annelsey  says  there  isn't.  And  if  it  should  happen,  of 
course  the  company  would  pay  the  damages,  especially  if 
you  and  James  were  married." 

Instead  of  comforting  Lucy,  this  set  her  crying  harder 
than  ever. 

Jennie  could  not  understand  her  sister's  mood,  and  did 
not  know  what  to  do  or  say  to  soothe  her;  and  hearing  their 
mother  calling  them  from  the  kitchen,  she  stooped  and 


n6 


DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 


kissed  Lucy's  hair,  where  she  sat,  and  went  down  to  assist  in 
getting  the  evening  meal,  telling  their  mother  that  Lucy 
would  be  down  in  a  few  moments,  but  saying  nothing  about 
having  left  her  in  tears. 

When  her  sister  had  gone,  Lucy  gave  way  to  her  feel- 
ings, and  cried  and  sobbed  until  her  whole  form  shook  with 
the  violence  of  her  emotions. 

Her  excitement  having  worn  itself  out  a  little,  she  raised 
her  head  and  wiped  her  eyes  with  her  apron. 


.  "  I  believe  they  are  selling  me  to  him,"  she  said,  under 
her  breath;  "selling  me  to  him  because  he  is  rich  and  can 
help  them  in  case  father  gets  into  difficulty  with  the  mining 
company;  and  Erastus  is  letting  them  do  it." 

And  again  her  face  went  down  upon   her  lap,  and  the 
sobs  broke  forth  afresh. 


OR,  JUST  A  c AMPIN'  117 

By  and  by  she  lifted  her  head  again,  and  finally  rose  and 
bathed  her  face  and  eyes. 

"  Poor  father,"  she  was  saying  to  herself,  "  I  know  what 
the  thought  of  losing  this  place  must  mean  to  him.  He -has 
been  driven  off  of  so  many  and  he  is  getting  old  now,  both 
he  and  mother.  If  they  were  to  lose  this  home  they  would 
feel  as  if  there  was  no  place  left  in  the  world  for  them  to  go 
to,  and  if  I  can  save  them  I  ought  to  be  willing  to  do  it; 
and  if  Erastus  marries  Julia  Ennis,  I  shall  not  care  what 
becomes  of  me  anyway." 

Then  she  began  crying  once  more,  but  more  quietly  than 
before. 

When  she  went  down  to  supper  the  family  noticed  that 
her  eyes  were  red,  but  thought  nothing  of  it,  as  the  girls  al- 
ways had  crying  spells  for  a  day  or  two  previous  to  leaving 
home  for  school. 

Her  father  came  out  of  his  own  gloomy  mood  at  sight  of 
his  daughter's  sorrow,  and  made  several  attempts  at  joking 
with  the  object  of  raising  her  spirits  again,  in  which  he 
seemed  to  succeed  admirably,  for  by  the  time  they  arose 
from  the  table  she  was  even  gayer  than  usual. 

On  the  morrow,  when  the  parting  came,  she  broke  down 
and  cried  as  if  her  heart  would  break;  but  then  Jennie 
cried  a  great  deal  also,  as  did  Mrs.  Parsons  and  Johnny. 
Even  Mr.  Parsons  felt  the  tears  stealing  down  his  cheeks, 
and  wiped  them  away  with  the  back  of  his  hand. 

Erastus  drove  them  to  the  landing  and  parted  with  them 
there. 

The  ride  had  been  an  unusually  silent  one,  all  of  them 
seeming  absorbed  in  thought.  He  would  kiss  them  both 
at  parting,  Erastus  had  been  saying  to  himself  ;  maybe  the 
last  kiss  he  should  ever  give  Lucy.  Annelsey,  he  felt  cer- 
tain, would  follow  her  to  the  city,  and  perhaps  when  she 


Il8  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

came  back  she  would  be  engaged  to  him.  She  might  even 
be  married  before  she  came  back,  and  so  save  him  the  pain 
of  being  present  at  her  wedding,  for  he  believed  she  knew 
of  his  love  for  her,  and  that  the  knowledge  had  caused  her 
to  feel  embarrassed  in  the  presence  of  his  rival  and  him- 
self. 

But  now  she  would  not  object  to  his  kissing  her,  as  he 
had  always  done  when  she  was  going  to  leave  them  for  any 
great  length  of  time,  and  he  would  hold  her  close  to  his 
heart  for  a  moment,  if  never  again.  But  when  they  reached 
the  landing  the  boat  was  on  the  point  of  swinging  off,  and 
there  was  no  time  even  to  shake  hands,  but  only  to  hurry  on 
board  and  wave  their  good-bys  while  the  gang-plank  was 
being  raised  and  the  boat  was  swinging  round  into  the 
current. 

Erastus  stood  upon  the  shore  and  watched  them  until 
they  were  lost  to  sight  amidst  the  hundred  other  passengers, 
and  then  turned  away  with  a  feeling  at  his  heart  that  all  of 
happiness  had  gone  out  of  his  life  forever. 

As  the  girls  were  leaving  the  office  of  the  steamer,  where 
they  had  gone  immediately  to  secure  their  state-rooms,  a 
gentleman  among  the  passengers  raised  his  hat  in  salutation. 

"  I  wonder,"  he  said,  "  if  I  can  be  of  any  service  that 
will  in  part  repay  your  family  for  the  kindness  shown  in 
keeping  three  gentlemen  over  night  one  time  last  spring  ? " 

"  Why,  Mr.  Ensign.  Is  it  you  ?  I  supposed  you  had 
forgotten  all  about  us  long  ago,  since  you  never  came  to 
see  us,"  said  Jennie,  feeling  that  anyone  whom  they  had 
ever  met  before  was  a  friend  where  everybody  else  was 
strange.  "  Have  you  been  at  the  mines  all  the  time  ?  Mr. 
Annelsey  said  he  didn't  know  what  had  become  of  you." 

"  So  Mr.  Annelsey  has  improved  his  chance  introduction 
to  the  Parsons  family,"  was  Ensign's  mental  comment. 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'  119 

"  Well,  I  can't  say  I  blame  him.  Maybe  I  would  have  done 
it  myself  if  I  had  had  the  leisure  he  has  had." 

Then  aloud: 

"  Mr.  Annelsey  has  not  felt  any  especial  interest  in  my 
whereabouts,  I  suppose.  I  have  been  at  Gravel  Hill  ever 
since  I  was  at  your  father's  cottage,  and  if  I  have  not  called, 
it  is  owing,  perhaps,  to  my  not  having  so  much  leisure  time 
on  my  hands  as  Mr.  Annelsey  has  had. 

"Besides,"  he  added,  looking  straight  at  Jennie,  "I  had 
no  reason  to  hope  that  I  should  be  made  welcome,  if  I  were 
to  come  as  a  friend  instead  of  a  weary  traveler  craving  a 
night's  lodging." 

Jennie  could  find  no  words  in  which  to  reply  to  this,  and 
Lucy  had  not  spoken  at  all,  except  barely  to  show  that  she 
recognized  Mr.  Ensign  as  one  whom  she  had  met  before.  As 
they  were  turning  away  to  seek  their  state-room  Ensign  inter- 
posed. 

"At  least,"  he  said,  "  now  that  we  have  met  by  accident, 
let  us  become  better  acquainted.  I  am  going  to  San  Fran- 
cisco to  run  an  engine  in  one  of  the  mills  there;  you,  I  sup- 
pose, are  returning  to  school.  May  I  not  join  you  when  you 
come  upon  deck  again  ?  Perhaps  I  can  be  of  some  service 
to  you  upon  our  arrival  at  the  city." 

"You  may  help  us  get  our  luggage  carried  up  when  we 
get  there,  if  you  wi'l,"  replied  Jennie,  "  and  we  will  be  much 
obliged  to  you;  and  we  are  coming  up  on  deck  pretty  soon, 
ain't  we  Lucy?  And  you  can  tell  us'all  about  things  at  the 
mine." 

"  They  appear  to  be  greatly  interested  in  things  at  the 
mine,"  muttered  Ensign,  as  he  turned  away;  "wonder  if  that 
fellow  Annelsey  has  really  been  making  love  to  one  of  them 
— and  which  one.  I  believe  I  should  not  like  it  if  it  should 
prove  to  be  Jennie  he  is  courting." 


120  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

After  arranging  their  toilets  the  young  ladies  came  upon 
deck.  Lucy  was  tempted  to  remain  in  their  state-room  and 
would  have  done  so  only  that  she  fancied  that  Jennie  was 
willing  to  get  better  acquainted  with  Mr.  Ensign.  That 
gentleman  was  waiting  for  their  appearance  and  joined  them 
the  moment  they  came  up  the  gangway,  and  was  so  jolly  and 
full  of  the  incidents  of  his  life  at  the  mines  that  even  Lucy, 
half  forgetting  her  troubles,  laughed  at  his  witticisms  and 
finally  joined  in  them. 

And  so  the  day  which  they  had  thought  would  be  a  lonely 
one  was  made  very  pleasant  indeed,  and  when  they  arrived 
just  before  dark  at  the  city  docks,  Ensign  arranged  for  having 
their  luggage  sent  up  and  then  walked  with  them  to  their 
rooms,  where  he  bid  them  good-night  after  having  obtained 
permission  to  call  at  some  future  time. 

"  Isn't  he  a  splendid  fellow  ?"  said  Jennie  that  night  when 
they  were  talking  over  the  adventures  of  the  day  in  their  own 
room. 

"I  am  glad  if  you  like  him,"  replied  Lucy. 

"Why  so?" 

"  Because  I  think  he  is  in  love  with  you.  I  saw  it  in  his 
eyes  when  he  sat  watching  you  on  the  boat." 

"Nonsense,  you  little  goosey.  Most  likely  he  has  a 
sweetheart  already." 

But  Jennie  blushed  as  she  said  it,  and  immediately  got 
up  and  went  waltzing  about  the  room,  humming  a  gay  air, 
every  few  moments  pausing  to  make  some  remark  which 
showed  that  she  was  thinking  of  Ensign,  and  that  her 
thoughts  were  pleasant  ones. 


OR,  JUST    A    C AMPIN  .  121 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

VISITING    THE   MINES. 

Mr.  Annelsey's  visits  to  their  father's  cottage  ceased  with 
the  departure  of  Jennie  and  Lucy,  and  John  Parsons  was 
thus  left  without  means  of  obtaining  frequent  or  reliable  in- 
formation of  the  progress  of  work  at  the  mines. 

He  was  at  the  landing  every  day  or  two  with  produce  for 
shipment,  and  always  inquired  of  such  as  he  met  if  they  had 
any  news  from  Gravel  Hill,  but  received  no  information  of  a 
positive  character  such  as  he  had  been  accustomed  to  obtain 
from  Mr.  Annelsey.  He  had,  in  fact,  questioned  that  young 
gentleman  so  often  and  so  minutely  that  he  felt  as  if  he  knew 
the  mines,  and  all  the  details  of  the  work  of  preparation  for 
working  them,  as  perfectly  as  if  he  had  located  them  and 
superintended  the  labor  of  the  men  himself;  but  now  he  only 
heard  rumors,  those  of  to-day  being  contradicted  by  those 
of  to-morrow.  Of  late,  too,  he  had  frequently  been  answered 
impatiently,  almost  rudely,  by  those  whom  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  questioning  about  the  mine.  They  felt  no  especial 
interest  in  the  affairs  of  the  mining  company  themselves,  and 
could  see  no  reason  for  his  solicitude,  and  were  growing 
weary  of  his  constant  and  persistent  inquiries. 

It  was  known,  of  course,  that  the  son  of  one  of  the  large 
stockholders  had  been  somewhat  intimate  with  his  daughter, 
and  there  were  found  gossips  who  intimated  that  "the  old 
man's  desire  for  information  from  the  mines  was  really  a  de- 
sire for  information  of  a  certain  young  man  who  made  his 
headquarters  there  during  the  time  he  was  not  roaming 


122  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

over  the  country,  flirting  with  such  young  girls  as  were 
foolish  enough  to  permit  it." 

And  then  the  moral  vultures,  from  which  even  country 
neighborhoods  are  not  always  free,  fluttered  their  wings  and 
indulged  in  another  little  flight  of  fancy. 

"The  pretense  of  a  return  to  school  was  only  a  blind," 
they  said.  "  Lucy's  parents  had  found  it  necessary  to  send 
her  from  home  for  a  time,  and  her  elder  sister  accompanied 
her  as  a  nurse  and  to  prevent  any  suspicion  of  the  true  cause 
of  her  going." 

No  one  who  knew  the  family  well  gave  any  heed  to  these 
tales,  but  there  were  those  who  did  believe  them,  and  who 
looked  upon  the  changed  appearance  of  John  Parsons  as  con- 
firmation of  them;  for  there  was  no  denying  that  there  was 
a  change  in  him.  Among  his  neighbors  and  at  the  landing 
he  had  been  noted  for  the  hearty  manner  with  which  he 
greeted  everybody,  whether  boy  or  man,  and  for  a  jovial  ex- 
pression of  countenance  that  gave  an  instant  impression  of  a 
prosperous  and  contented  man,  as  well  as  the  possessor  of  a 
kindly  heart.  But  now  his  whole  expression  and  manner 
was  changed.  Often  at  the  landing  he  passed  men  whom  he 
knew,  without  appearing  to  see  them,  and  looked  at  strangers 
without  speaking,  but  in  a  manner  which  seemed  to  question 
them  of  their  purpose  in  coming  to  the  locality.  All  the 
jollity  had  left  him,  and  his  greetings,  even  to  his  best  friends, 
had  lost  their  hearty  cordiality,  and  he  inquired  less  frequently 
after  their  health  and  more  and  more  often  if  they  had  any 
news  from  the  mines,  until  even  they  began  to  wonder  if 
there  might  not  be  something  in  the  rumors  which  had 
reached  their  ears,  and  one  day  when  he  had  seemed  partic- 
ularly downcast,  a  neighbor,  in  reply  to  his  usual  inquiries 
for  news  from  Gravel  Hill,  said: 

'  See  here,  Parsons,  I  know  it  isn't  any  of  my  business, 


OR,  JUST    A    C AMPIN*.  123 

but  if  I  were  you  I  believe  I  would  go  up  to  the  mines  and 
see  Mr.  Annelsey.  Young  men  are  sometimes  a  little  wild 
without  being  really  bad  at  heart,  and  maybe  if  you  see  him 
yourself  and  talk  to  him  without  showing  temper  he'll  do  the 
square  thing." 

The  "square  thing"  that  John  Parsons  wanted  done  was 
to  leave  him  and  his  in  undisturbed  possession  of  their  home, 
with  its  vineyards  and  orchards,  its  plot  of  ground  where  the 
turkeys  and  chickens  and  ducks  wandered  and  nested  and 
raised  their  young;  the  rose  bush  over  the  cottage  porch; 
the  vegetable  garden  at  the  side;  the  fields  for  pasturage  and 
grain  stretching  away  on  every  side. 

He  thought  of  Mr.  Annelsey  only  in  connection  with  the 
mine  whose  washings  might  flood  his  ranch  and  destroy  all 
that  Martha  and  he  had  labored  so  hard  to  accumulate,  and 
leave  them  in  their  old  age  to  begin  all  over  again.  And 
what  use  to  begin  again  if  this  place,  too,  should  be  wrested 
from  them  ?  He  would  have  no  heart,  no  faith  to  go  farther 
or  do  more.  He  should  feel  that  God  was  out  of  the  uni- 
verse; that  the  sun  had  set  in  eternal  night,  if  forced  again 
to  take  his  loved  ones  and  flee  into  the  wilderness. 

Not  the  faintest  intimation  o'f  the  meaning  of  the  neigh- 
bor's words  reached  his  mind.  Had  it  done  so,  had  he 
known  that  the  kindly  meant  words  of  his  friend  implied  a 
stain  upon  the  character  of  his  daughter,  he  would  have  re- 
sented it  in  a  manner  to  prevent  its  repetition,  at  least  in  his 
presence;  but  he  saw  only  a  suggestion  that  he  should  go 
personally  to  the  mines,  see  with  his  own  eyes  how  great  the 
cause  for  alarm  really  was,  take  advantage  of  his  acquaint- 
ance with  Mr.  Annelsey  in  the  work  of  securing  information, 
and  in  case  he  found  the  danger  imminent,  to  induce  the 
young  man  to  use  his  influence  to  avert  it. 

The  neighbor's  allusion  to  Annelsey  as   "  wild  "  he  did 


124  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

not  notice;  or,  if  he  did,  supposed  that  the  speaker  intended 
to  convey  the  thought  that  the  company  might  not  be  in- 
clined to  give  much  weight,  in  matters  of  business,  to  the 
advice  of  so  young  a  man;  regarding  him  as  inexperienced 
and  consequently  wild  in  his  judgment.  But  the  suggestion 
of  visiting  the  mines  and  seeing  for  himself  the  whole  sit- 
uation, struck  him  as  a  good  one,  and  he  resolved  at  once 
to  go. 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast  he  announced  his  inten- 
tion of  going  to  Gravel  Hill.  He  made  no  mention  of  his 
purpose  in  going,  and  neither  his  wife  nor  Erastus  had  any 
need  to  ask;  they  understood  without  asking,  and  raised  no 
objections.  Possibly  they  hoped  he  might  learn  something 
which  would  relieve  his  anxiety  and  bring  back  his  old  time 
cheerfulness.  Martha  Parsons  felt  that  the  house  was  terri- 
bly gloomy  of  late.  The  girls  absent,  her  husband  silent 
and  moody,  even  Erastus  seemed  depressed  and  downcast; 
the  whole  atmosphere  of  the  household  was  changed,  and 
but  for  Johnny,  who  was  too  young  to  feel  anxiety  about 
anything  pertaining  to  the  future,  the  circle  which  gathered 
about  their  daily  board  would  have  been  a  silent  one  indeed. 

Johnny  was,  as  was  but  natural,  the  pet  of  the  family. 
Being  the  baby,  and  with  a  goodly  number  of  years  between 
himself  and  the  next  older,  he  had  been  allowed  his  own 
way  until  there  had  grown  up  a  doubt  in  his  mind  as  to 
who  was  head  of  the  family,  and  entitled  to  have  their  orders 
obeyed. 

Of  a  sunny  temperament,  he  was  seldom  actually  bad, 
but  was  full  of  life,  active  but  sensitive,  and  easily  hurt  by 
a  harsh  word  or  a  refusal  on  the  part  of  any  one  to  accept 
any  favor  which  he  might  fancy  himself  to  be  conferring. 
When  not  asleep  or  attending  to  his  ducks  and  chickens  he 
was  constantly  with  his  father,  playing  in  the  dirt,  while 


POOR  JOHNNY  PRESENTED  A  SORRY  PICTURE,  AS  HIS  LITTLE  BOOTS 
WERE  SEEN  HIGHER  THAN  HIS  HEAD,  WHILE  THE  OLD  DOG  STOOD 
HALF  TURNED  AROUND  TRYING  TO  TAKE  IN  THE  SITUATION,  AND 
LOOKING  MORE  TROUBLED,  IF  POSSIBLE,  THAN  THE  CHILD, 


126  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

John,  Sen.,  tied  up  the  grape  vines,  helping  to  carry  away  the 
limbs  when  the  orchard  was  trimmed,  aiding  in  bringing 
in  the  fruit  and  vegetables  when  they  were  gathered,  sit- 
ting astride  his  father's  shoulders  as  he  went  to  and  from 
the  barn,  or  by  his  side  in  the  spring  wagon  as  he  drove 
about  the  place  or  to  town. 

Sometimes  he  would  hitch  Bose  to  a  little  wagon  his 
father  had  made  for  him,  and,  climbing  into  it,  would  drive 
him  about  the  place;  but,  to  his  sorrow,  he  had  found  that 
the  dog  was  entirely  too  active  for  his  own  comfort;  in  fact, 
the  last  time  he  had  tried  to  play  horse  in  this  way  it  came 
so  near  ending  in  a  serious  accident  that  it  put  a  stop  to  all 
such  experiments. 

The  dog  had  started  off  on  a  rapid  run,  and  in  making 
a  sudden  turn  as  he  passed  a  little  tree  that  stood  in  the 
yard,  had  caught  one  of  the  front  wheels  upon  it  in  such  a 
way  as  to  violently  throw  the  boy  out  and  badly  wreck  the 
wagon.  Poor  Johnny  presented  a  sorry  picture  as  his  little 
boots  were  seen  higher  than  his  head,  while  the  old  dog 
stood  half  turned  around  trying  to  take  in  the  situation,  and 
looking  more  troubled,  if  possible,  than  the  child. 

No  sooner  did  his  father  say  he  was  going  to  Gravel  Hill 
than  Johnny  announced  his  intentions  of  accompanying 
him. 

"  I  hardly  think  he  had  better  go,  do  you,  father  ?  "  said 
Mrs.  Parsons  to  her  husband;  "it's  a  long  ride  over  the 
hills,  and  you  will  be  forced  to  stay  over  night,  besides 
which  Johnny  will  be  a  bother  to  you  in  getting  about  to 
see  the  mines.  I  guess  he  had  better  stay  at  home  with 
Erastus  and  me,  and  help  us  to  take  care  of  the  ducks  and 
chickens  this  time." 

But  Johnny  persisted.  He  "wanted  to  see  Gravel  Hill; " 
"wanted  to  see  the  mines;  "  "  wanted  to  see  'em  throw  the 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  127 

water,"  and  finally  clinched  his  argument  by  asserting  that 
his  father  would  be  lonesome  without  him.  And  so  he  had 
his  way  and  went  with  his  father. 

The  road  over  the  "  hills,"  which  were  really  mountains, 
was  rocky  and  often  precipitous,  but  the  horses  were  used  to 
such,  and  with  only  Mr.  Parsons  and  Johnny  in  the  spring 
buck-board,  they  made  pretty  good  time,  arriving  at  their 
destination  just  as  the  sun  was  sinking  out  of  sight. 

Stopping  in  front  of  the  largest  building  in  the  town,  Mr. 
Parsons  gave  the  lines  to  Johnny  to  hold  while  he  went  in  to 
inquire  if  he  could  obtain  lodging  for  the  night.  He  was 
promised  a  bed  for  himself  and  boy  in  a  room  in  which  were 
a  half-dozen  other  beds,  and  was  shown  where  to  get  feed 
for  his  horses  after  he  had  taken  them  from  the  buck- 
board  and  tied  them  to  a  rack  in  the  rear  of  the  boarding- 
house.  No  shelter  for  animals  had  yet  been  built,  and  for 
the  present  there  was  little  need  of  any,  the  winter  rains  not 
having  set  in. 

By  the  time  he  had  cared  for  his  animals  supper  was 
ready,  and  father  and  son  joined  the  score  of  men  who 
gathered  about  the  long  table  upon  which  was  placed  a  sub- 
stantial meal  of  bacon,  potatoes,  bread,  beans  and  strong 
coffee. 

The  room  was  lighted  by  candles,  stuck,  a  portion  of 
them,  in  tin  or  sheet-iron  candlesticks;  others  in  blocks 
of  wood  into  which  a  hole  had  been  bored  to  receive 
them. 

The  men  were  mostly  miners  in  the  employ  of  one  or 
other  of  the  placer  companies  having  claims  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, or  were  working  on  a  small  scale  for  themselves. 
Nearly  all  wore  red  flannel  shirts,  and  most  of  them  had 
their  sleeves  rolled  up  to  the  elbow,  just  as  they  came 
from  their  work;  or,  perhaps,  in  imitation  of  those  of  their 


128  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

number  whose  garments  were  lacking  sleeves  altogether  ex- 
cept a  few  inches  at  the  shoulder. 

But  if  they  lacked  for  wearing  apparel,  none  were  lack- 
ing in  appetite,  and  the  coarsely  cooked  food  disappeared 
from  before  them  in  a  way  that  would  have  astonished  any 
cook  not  accustomed  to  provide  provender  for  a  lot  of  hun- 
gry miners. 

Of  these  men  John  Parsons  learned  that  the  work  of 
washing  down  the  mountains  had  already  begun.  The  water 
had  been  brought  from  a  stream  three  miles  distant  and 
many  feet  above  the  placers  which  it  was  the  intention  to  work, 
and  conducted  into  an  immense  reservoir,  which  had  been 
built  on  the  bluffs  above.  From  this  reservoir  strong  pipes 
of  heavy  duck  cloth,  strengthened  by  bands  of  iron,  con- 
veyed it  to  the  point  below,  from  which  it  was  directed 
against  the  hills  which  contained  the  gold. 

This  piping  was  six  or  eight  inches  in  diameter,  with  bands 
ot  iron  every  few  inches,  and  ended  in  a  nozzle  like  that  of 
a  garden  or  fire  hose,  and  from  the  immense  pressure  of  the 
water  above  would  throw  a  stream  with  sufficient  force  to  cut 
a  man  or  a  horse  in  two  instantly,  and  which  ate  into  the  side 
of  the  mountain  as  fire  eats  into  a  dry  brush  heap. 

To  obtain  the  gold- — which  was  in  fine  particles  scattered 
through  the  whole  earth  of  the  hills  composing  the  placers 
— sluiceways,  extending  some  distance  down  the  gorge,  had 
been  built,  through  which  all  the  earth  and  stones  to  be 
washed  down  were  to  be  passed. 

The  bottom  of  this  sluice  was  of  planks,  upon  which  was 
nailed,  or  wedged,  circular  pieces  from  the  ends  of  logs,  alter- 
nating with  rows  of  slats  also  fastened  across  the  bottom  of 
the  sluice,  into  the  upper  end  of  which  was  turned  many 
pounds  of  quicksilver,  which  gradually  made  its  way  through 


OR,  JUST  A  c AMPIN'.  129 

the  sluice,  lodging  in  little  pools  between  the  interstices  of 
the  circular  pieces  of  wood,  or  on  the  upper  side  of  the  slats, 
and  served  to  catch  and  hold  the  fine  particles  of  gold  as 
they  sunk  to  the  bottom  of  the  mass  of  earth  passing  through 
the  sluice  and  being  pulverized  by  the  action  of  the  water 
and  its  own  grinding  motion. 

Not  one  company  only,  but  several,  had  taken  claims  and 
were  prepared  for  an  assault  upon  the  hills  with  these  enor- 
mous pipes.  All,  however,  took  their  water  from  the  same 
reservoir,  paying  those  who  had  built  it  by  the  thousand 
feet,  for  the  amount  used. 

John  Parsons  slept  but  little  that  night,  and  was  up  at 
the  first  noise  which  indicated  that  any  of  the  other  occu- 
pants were  astir. 

Leaving  Johnny  asleep  in  the  bed  he  went  out  and  fed 
his  horses,  and  then  came  in  and  sat  down  in  the  bar-room 
to  wait  for  breakfast.  When  he  saw  that  the  meal  was  nearly 
ready,  he  awakened  Johnny,  and  after  eating,  started  to  look 
at  the  mines,  which  were  a  good  half  mile  away,  taking  the 
boy  with  him. 

The  men  who  handled  the  pipes  were  on  the  ground  as 
soon  as  he.  The  day  previous  they  had  exploded  fifty  kegs 
of  powder  in  a  tunnel  which  they  had  dug  into  the  hillside, 
and  had  rent  and  torn  the  earth  in  every  direction.  They 
now  turned  the  water  from  long  lines  of  hose  upon  the  loos- 
ened mass,  and  began  washing  away  the  earth  with  a  rapidity 
which  promised  to  soon  reduce  the  hills  to  a  level  with  the 
valleys. 

"Talk  about  faith  movin'  mountains,"  said  the  man  who 
handled  the  pipe,  as  he  watched  the  dirt  crumble  and  dis- 
solve, while  great  trees  and  rocks  slowly  sank  into  the  abyss. 
"Talk  about  faith  movin'  mountains,  and  I'm  a  1-e-e-t-l-e  bit 


1  TALK  ABOUT  FAITH  MOVIN*  MOUNTAINS,  AND  I'M  JUST  A  L-E-E-T-L-E 
BIT  SKEPTICAL,  I  AM  ;  BUT  SAY,  FAITH  AND  A  STREAM  OF  WATER 
FROM  ONE  OF  THESE  HERE  PIPES,  AN*  I'LL  GAMBLE  ON  IT  EVERY 
TIME." 

130 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  131 

skeptical,  I  am  ;  but  say,  faith  and  a  stream  of  water  from 
one  of  these  here  pipes,  an'  I'll  gamble  on  it  evepy  time."  * 

John  Parsons  turned  from  the  sight,  faint  and  sick  at 
heart.  He  had  seen  enough.  They  would  wash  the  earth 
of  those  hills  from  their  rocky  foundations  as  the  dust  is 
washed  from  the  paved  streets  of  a  city  by  a  July  shower, 
and  the  valleys  must  become  its  resting  place.  Farms,  and 
orchards,  and  vineyards  would  be  covered,  at  the  first  great 
flood,  with  the  worthless  earth  of  the  mountain  tops  which 
was  now  pouring  through  the  sluice  into  the  gulch  below. 
Fertile  fields  would  be  made  barren,  their  owners  impover- 
ished, their  homes  made  desolate;  all,  all,  that  a  few  men 
already  rich  might  grow  richer  by  possessing  themselves  of 
the  few  penny's  worth  of  gold  that  lay  hidden  in  each  cubic 
foot  of  the  mountain's  top. 

"  'Ow  do  you  do,  sir;  I  'ope.  I  see  you  well?" 

John  Parsons  turned  squarely  around  and  stood  face  to 
face  with  Mr.  Jobbers,  who  extended  his  hand  with  a  rather 
pompous  though  cordial  air. 

"  'Ow  is  Mrs.  Parsons  and  the  young  ladies;  well,  I  'ope? 
Mr.  Hannelsey  was  telling  me  before  'e  left  as  'ow  'e  'ad 
hoften  called  on  you  during  'is  fishing  and  'unting 


*  "A  peculiar  instance  of  how  thoroughly  the  placer  diggings  have  been  worked  is 
evidenced  in  Shaw's  flat,  an  exceedingly  rich  plateau  in  the  County  Tuolumne.  In 
1851  this  was  a  beautiful  level  park  studded  with  trees,  among  them  many  noble  cedars. 
I  n  1860  the  whole  plain  from  four  to  five  miles  across  was  one  scene  of  gaunt  desolation. 
The  entire  dirt  had  been  washed  away  ;  not  a  single  tree  remained.  Shaw's  flat,  once 
proverbial  for  the  richness  of  its  mines,  was  silent  and  solitary.  The  bed  rock  was 
composed  of  limestone.  The  headwaters  of  the  river  Stanislaus  had  been  brought  to 
bear  upon  the  soil,  and  had  washed  away  every  grain  of  it  through  Dragon  gulch  into 
the  lowlands.  Nothing  remained  but  the  white  bare  rocks  that  looked  like  tombstones  ; 
the  more  so,  as  they  were  of  all  shapes.  Some  of  them  flat,  others  peaked,  others 
needle  shaped,  and  some  arched. 

With  200  inches  of  water  250,000  cubic  feet  of  dirt  can  be  washed  in  a  working 
week."  —  Front  "Six  MONTHS  IN  CALIFORNIA,"  by  J.  G.  Player  —  Fraud,  London, 
England.  Page  96  —  7. 


132  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

sions.  Come  hup  to  my  quarters  and  'ave  a  glass  of 
wine." 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  Mr.  Jobbers'  invitation  was 
caused  by  his  having  noticed  the  look  of  exhaustion  and 
hopelessness  which  had  settled  upon  the  face  of  John  Par- 
sons. He  was  not  in  the  habit  of  noticing  the  look  of  peo- 
ple's faces,  unless  he  suspected  them  of  having  designs  upon 
his  purse.  He  was  not  a  bad  man  at  heart;  he  was  even 
capable  of  being  generous  at  times  and  in  a  way — or  at  least 
he  believed  he  was. 

If  a  beggar  appealed  to  him  in  a  particularly  touching 
manner  he  gave  him  a  shilling,  and  had  even  been  known  to 
give  a  half-crown  when  feeling  especially  amiable;  but  it 
never  occurred  to  him  that  a  beggar  had  any  feelings  except 
of  cold  or  hunger,  and  these  he  supposed  only  in  a  modified 
degree,  and  not  keenly  as  people  in  affluent  circumstances 
would  do  if  by  accident  they  were  to  miss  a  meal,  or  be 
caught  out  in  a  storm  without  sufficient  clothing. 

Besides,  it  was  intended  that  some  should  be  rich  and 
some  poor;  of  this  he  had  no  doubt  whatever;  and  it  was  the 
duty  of  everyone  to  be  contented  in  the  condition  in  which 
God  has  placed  him.  He  was  contented  with  his  lot,  and  he 
felt  that  he  thereby  performed  pretty  nearly  his  whole  duty 
to  society,  and  he  had  no  sympathy  with  those  who  made 
complaint  against  their  condition  in  life;  but  occasionally 
would  give  the  price  of  a  meal  of  victuals  just  to  prove  to 
himself  and  the  world  that  he  could  be  generous  as  well  as 
strictly  just. 

Such  freaks  were  not  common  with  him;  at  least  not 
enough  so  to  excite  any  fears  of  his  bankrupting  himself  on 
the  part  of  his  friends;  and  when  it  did  occur  it  was  invari- 
ably after  having  eaten  a  hearty  dinner. 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  133 

Then,  too,  he  recognized  the  claims  of  hospitality;  and 
having  eaten  and  slept  beneath  the  roof  of  the  man  now 
standing  before  him,  he  wished  to  prove  that  he  could  be 
hospitable  in  his  turn. 

John  Parsons  was  not  a  lover  of  wine,  and  seldom  drank 
it,  although  wine  of  his  own  making  was  always  in  his  house, 
and  often  on  his  table;  but  now  he  felt  that  a  glass  of  it 
would  stiffen  him  up  and  maybe  clear  his  ideas,  which  some- 
way seemed  terribly  mixed.  Then,  too,  he  suddenly  remem- 
bered that  he  wanted  to  talk  with  Mr.  Jobbers. 

He  had  utterly  forgotten  about  Mr.  Annelsey,  and  would 
have  given  him  no  thought  had  not  Mr.  Jobbers  mentioned 
him,  and  now  he  did  not  think  to  inquire  why  or  where  the 
young  man  had  gone.  It  was  sufficient  that  he  was  gone, 
and  so  could  be  of  no  use  in  influencing  the  company  to 
cease  the  work  of  destroying  homes.  But  Mr.  Jobbers  was 
one  of  the  company;  he  represented  that  half  of  the  stock 
which  was  held  in  London,  and  if  he  could  only  be  made  to 
see  how  much  damage  was  certain  to  be  done,  how  many 
homes  ruined  if  the  work  went  on,  he  might,  voting  for  those 
whom  he  represented,  stop  the  whole  thing  at  once,  by  stop- 
ping work  upon  his  own  mine  and  refusing  to  sell  water  to 
the  other  companies. 

It  was  a  foolish  thought,  for  when  have  men  ever  refused 
to  get  rich  from  fear  of  ruining  others  ? — yet  John  Parsons 
said  to  himself  that  he  would  try,  and  if  that  failed  he  would 
threaten  them  with  the  law.  No,  not  the  law,  for  he  felt  that 
that  was  always  on  the  side  of  the  rich.  Only  the  higher 
law;  the  right  of  every  human  being  to  all  the  products  of 
his  own  toil,  and  to  defend  that  right  regardless  of  conse- 
quences to  those  who  attempted  to  violate  that  law,  was 
worthy  of  being  appealed  to,  he  thought;  and  he  called  to 


134  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

mind  the  instances  in  which  men  who  were_  being  robbed 
under  guise  of  legal  enactments  there  on  the  coast,  had 
appealed  to  this  higher  law  and  administered  justice  with  a 
bold  hand. 

But  now  he  would  go  with  Mr.  Jobbers  and  would  see 
what  could  be  done  to  save  his  own  home  and  those  of  his 
neighbors  from  destruction. 


OR.  JUST    A   CAMPIN  .  135 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

DEEPENING    SHADOWS. 

So  that  he  gathered  the  red  ore  and  precious  stones, 
What  has  man  ever  cared  for  hearts  that  bled  ? 

What  has  he  recked  of  altars  overthrown  ; 
Of  brave  men  dead;  of  hearthstones 

Overgrown  with  weeds  ? 

Deeds 

Louder  speak  than  words,  and  deeds 

Of  man  in  all  the  past  proclaim 

He  only  cared  for  gold — gold  and  a  name  ; 

For  that  his  name  might  live, 

He  oft  has  carved  it  deep  in  living, 

Quivering  human  flesh; 

Just  as  he  mar'd  the  beauty  of  the  hills, 

And  bar'd  the  streams  from  out  their  places, 

And  scar'd  the  face  of  nature 

With  deep  seams  cut  in  her  face 

In  his  mad  search  for  gold. 

A  very  foolish  thought  it  was — that  of  John  Parsons — 
that  a  rich  company  which  had  expended  more  than  one 
hundred  thousand  dollars  in  erecting  water  flumes  and 
sluices  for  washing  down  the  hills  and  gathering  gold,  would 
cease  operations  just  because  a  few  thousand  acres  of  vine- 
yard and  grain  lands  would  be  destroyed,  and  the  homes  of 
a  hundred  poor  men  made  desolate. 

And  yet  John  Parsons  saw  nothing  foolish  in  the  thought. 
On  the  contrary  he  felt  momentarily  certain  that  when 
he  should  show  Mr.  Jobbers  how  the  stones  and  earth 
washed  down  would  be  carried  through  the  sluice  into  the 


136  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

gorge,  and  from  there  into  the  creek,  filling  up  its  bed  and 
causing  it  to  seek  new  channels;  that  with  the  first  great 
flood  the  sand  and  gravel  would  be  carried  over  the  whole 
valley,  and  settling  as  the  water  receded,  render  absolutely 
valueless  thousands  and  thousands*  of  acres  of  fine  agricul- 
tural lands  worth  more  to  future  generations  than  all  the 
gold  in  the  mountains;  land  now  covered  with  vineyards  and 
orchards  and  the  cottages  of  honest  people,  who  had  made 
every  dollar  they  possessed  by  hard  work — surely,  he  thought, 
when  they  know  this,  these  men  will  not  refuse  to  cease  their 
work  of  destruction  and  leave  the  settlers  in  peace.  Surely, 
these  men  who  are  already  rich  and  can  provide  their  fami- 
lies with  every  luxury,  will  not  deprive  others  of  their  homes 
in  order  to  pile  up  heaps  of  gold  that  can  add  nothing  to 
their  own  comfort. 

"No,  no,"  he  said  to  himself,  "it  is  not  possible  that 
they  can  be  so  heartless  as  that.  They  have  not  consid- 
ered the  damage  it  will  do  to  the  ranchmen  and  their  fami- 
lies or  they  would  never  have  gone  on  with  the  work,"  and 
he  began  to  blame  himself  that  he  had  not  sooner  called 
their  attention  to  the  fact,  and  so  have  saved  these  generous 
men  who  were  to  surfer  the  loss  of  so  much  wealth  rather 
than  wrong  others,  and  to  devise  means  for  raising  at  least  a 
portion  of  it  among  his  neighbors,  who  would  thus  have 
escaped  the  threatened  destruction. 

It  could  be  arranged,  he  thought,  and  no  one  surfer  very 
greatly.  He  would  give  five  hundred  or  even  a  thousand 
dollars  himself.  It  was  only  just  that  he  should,  since  he 
had  allowed  the  company  to  go  to  such  heavy  expenditures 
without  calling  their  attention  to  the  damage  that  would  be 
done,  and  doubtless  many  others  would  do  as  much.  Yes,  it 
could  all  be  arranged  easily,  and  his  home  would  be  saved 
after  all. 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  137 

All  this  passed  through  John  Parsons'  brain  in  a  moment 
as  he  turned  to  follow  Mr.  Jobbers. 

He  did  not  reason  it  out.  It  came  as  an  inspiration.  In 
an  instant  the  whole  situation,  the  degree  of  responsibility 
of  each  interested  party,  and  the  requirements  of  justice, 
stood  out  as  clearly  as  the  clouds,  when  illumined  by  the 
lightnings,  stand  out  against  the  blackness  of  earth  and 
sky  at  midnight. 

Yet  when  he  found  himself  in  the  office  of  the  company, 
and  had  been  introduced  to  the  representative  of  the  New 
York  stockholders,  he  did  not  feel  quite  so  certain  that  they 
would  see  it  in  the  same  light  in  which  he  saw  it;  or  that  the 
inspiration  which  had  come  to  him  had  reached  their  minds 
also.  Somehow  their  look  of  self-sufficiency  and  air  of  as- 
sured prosperity,  brought  back  the  clouds  and  made  all  dark 
again. 

But  he  would  not  abandon  the  idea.  He  would  point 
out  the  wrong  about  to  be  done,  and  ask  for  justice. 

And  so,  slowly  and  brokenly  at  first,  and  then  rapidly, 
and  with  a  native  eloquence  that  his  ungrammatical  words 
could  not  hide,  he  poured  out  the  story  of  his  hopes  and 
fears,  mingled  with  a  bit  of  his  past  history;  the  wrongs  he 
had  suffered,  he  and  his,  and  of  his  willingness  to  give  largely 
to  help  reimburse  the  company  for  their  expenditures,  if  they 
would  stop  the  supply  of  water  and  so  remove  the  danger 
which  threatened  his  home. 

When  he  began  speaking,  Mr.  Jobbers  turned  towards 
him  with  a  look  of  surprise  upon  his  red  face  that  speedily 
turned  to  one  of  incredulity,  then  anger  mingled  with  the 
look  of  incredulity,  and  both  gave  place  to  contempt,  and 
when  John  Parsons  ceased  speaking  the  Englishman  turned 
to  his  partner. 

"  Well,  Hi   never,"   he  said,  speaking  each  word  sepa- 


138  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

rately  and  with  emphasis.  "  Hif  'e  isn't  a-haskin'  of  us  to 
give  up  our  henterprise  and  let  the  gold  remain  in  the  'ills, 
where  it  is  no  use  to  hanybody,  just  because  the  earth  that 
composes  'em  may  be  washed  down  upon  'is  blarsted  bit  of 
a  ranch." 

Mr.  Jobbers'  partner  smiled.  At  least  the  muscles  of  his 
face  drew  back  from  the  mouth  slightly.  He  evidently 
pitied  the  ignorance  of  a  man  who  could  make  such  a  request, 
and  who  now  sat  with  his  arm  thrown  about  his  boy,  Johnny 
having  crept  to  his  side  while  he  had  been  speaking. 

'  You  evidently  fail  to  comprehend  the  situation,  Mr. 
Parsons,"  he  said.  "  What  would  your  ranch  be  worth  if  you 
could  not  sell  its  products  ? 

"Gold,"  he  continued,  "is  the  world's  medium  of  ex- 
change, and  gold  must  be  had  in  order  to  carry  on  business. 
All  trade  and  commerce  would  cease  if  the  supply  of  gold 
did  not  keep  pace  with  the  increased  power  of  the  produc- 
tion of  the  people.  You  yourself  could  not  exchange  your 
grapes  and  other  fruits  for  wearing  apparel — the  comforts 
and  necessities  of  life — if  it  were  not  for  the  gold  which  is 
coined  into  money. 

"We  do  not  know,"  he  went  on,  "why  the  gold  was 
placed  in  such  fine  particles  as  to  require  that  the  hills  be 
washed  down  in  order  to  obtain  it,  but  undoubtedly  it  was  for 
some  wise  purpose;  and  in  bringing  it  forth  we  are  doing  a' 
great  thing  for  civilization,  and  for  the  common  people  as 
well  as  the  rich;  so  you  see  you  are  acting  very  selfishly  as 
well  as  foolishly  in  suggesting  such  a  thing  as  stopping  work 
on  the  mines." 

And  to  all  this  John  Parsons  could  answer  not  a 
word. 

He  felt  that  his  opponent's  reasoning  was  fallacious,  even 
blasphemous.  That  it  certainly  could  not  be  necessary;  that 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  139 

God  could  not  have  intended  it  to  be  necessary,  that  the  very 
means  of  existence,  the  soil,  which  is  the  origin  of  all  wealth, 
should  be  rendered  barren  and  valueless  in  order  to  obtain 
that  with  which  to  exchange  wealth;  and  that  there  was  no 
justice  in  robbing  him  and  his,  that  others  might  possess 
more  of  that  of  which  they  already  had  enough  for  all  their 
needs. 

But  he  was  not  accustomed  to  argument.  He  had  just 
made  the  longest  speech  of  his  life,  and  these  men  judged  it 
foolish  and  him  insane.  He  could  say  no  more,  and  he  arose 
without  a  word  further,  and  carrying  his  boy  in  his  arms, 
passed  out  of  the  building  and  turned  towards  the  place 
where  he  had  left  his  horses. 

He  had  but  one  thought  now — to  get  back  home. 

His  wife,  he  dimly  felt,  would  sympathize  with  him  and 
comfort  him:  that  is,  such  comfort  as  she  could  give,  which 
was  all  the  comfort  that  he  would  ever  know.  He  should 
never  be  anybody  again;  never  hold  up  his  head  again  among 
men.  Powerless  to  protect  those  he  loved,  there  was  but  one 
comfort  left  him — to  hide  in  the  bosom  of  his  family,  the 
members  of  whom  would  pity  him  although  they  might  not 
be  able  to  have  much  respect  for  one  who  was  a  man,  yet 
could  not  protect  them  from  poverty  and  suffering  and  hun- 
ger. In  his  over-wrought  state  of  mind  it  seemed  to  him 
that  his  home  was  already  gone,  and  he  would  not  have  been 
surprised  could  he  have  been  suddenly  transported  to  his 
cottage,  to  have  found  it  a  mass  of  ruins,  with  the  rose  vine 
dead  above  the  porch,  and  his  vineyard,  and  orchard,  and 
fields  covered  with  a  mass  of  debris  from  the  mines. 

He  paid  his  bill  at  the  boarding  house  without  seeing  the 
party  to  whom  he  paid  it,  watered  his  horses  and  hitched 
them  to  the  buckboard  mechanically,  and  turned  their  heads 
homeward  with  a  look  of  such  absolute  hopelessness  that 


140  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

even  Johnny  was  silent,  his  young  spirits  overborne  by  the 
weight  of  his  father's  woe. 

Several  times  during  the  first  half  of  the  homeward  jour- 
ney the  boy  tried  to  arouse  his  father  by  pointing  to  some 
bird,  or  flower,  by  the  roadside,  but  if  he  heard  at  all  John 
Parsons  replied  to  the  lad  only  in  monosyllables,  or  at  ran- 
dom, and  again  relapsed  into  the  silence  which  was  so  de- 
pressing to  the  child. 

When  a  little  more  than  half  way  home,  as  they  were 
winding  around  a  hill  upon  the  edge  of  a  deep  gorge,  two 
deer  which  had  been  sleeping  in  a  bunch  of  tall  grass  by  the 
roadside  suddenly  sprang  up  and  bounded  across,  almost 
under  the  noses  of  the  horses. 

So  unexpected  was  their  presence  and  their  movement, 
that  the  horses  themselves,  half  asleep  and  jogging  along  un- 
der a  loose  rein  and  with  ears  dropped  forward,  took  fright 
and  jumped  quickly  sideways,  overturning  the  buckboard  and 
throwing  its  occupants  out  with  considerable  force. 

Clinging  to  the  lines,  as  he  instinctively  did,  prevented 
John  Parsons  from  going  over  the  bluff,  and  after  being 
dragged  a  few  rods  he  brought  the  horses  to  a  stop  and  arose 
to  his  feet  unharmed,  excepting  a  few  scratches  and  bruises 
about  the  face  and  limbs.  But  Johnny,  having  nothing  to 
cling  to  except  the  back  of  the  seat,  which  was  wrenched 
from  his  grasp  in  the  fall,  was  thrown  violently  over  the  bluff, 
and  rolled  half-way  down  its  steep  side,  being  caught  at  last 
by  a  huge  boulder  which  had  itself  fallen  down  from  above 
at  some  previous  period. 

Mr.  Parsons'  first  thought  when  he  arose  was  of  Johnny, 
and  he  looked  around,  hoping  to  see  him  unhurt  and  scram- 
bling up  the  bank. 

But,  no;  he  was  nowhere  in  sight.  His  father  called 
once;  then  again — then  he  hastily  tied  the  now  perfectly  quiet 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  141 

animals  to  a  stunted  manzenita  tree  by  the  roadside  and  ran 
back  to  look  for  the  boy. 

Not  seeing  him  from  the  point  on  the  road  where  the 
buckboard  was  overturned,  he  rushed  over  the  bluff,  nearly 
pitching  headlong  in  his  haste,  and  scrambled  down  its  side, 
coming  upon  the  body  of  the  boy  where  it  lay,  with  eyes 
closed  and  one  arm  bent  under  in  a  way  in  which  it  could 
only  be  if  broken,  and  with  blood  issuing  from  nose  and  ears. 

For  a  moment  John  Parsons  stood  with  a  look  of  awful 
horror  on  his  face,  and  then  his  strength  left  him  and  he 
staggered  and  leaned  upon  the  rock  against  which  the  body 
lay. 

The  next  instant  his  strength  returned,  and  with  great 
beads  of  perspiration  standing  out  upon  his  face,  he  knelt 
down  and  placed  his  hand  over  the  lad's  heart. 

There  was  a  faint  fluttering  there,  and  raising  the  body 
in  his  arms  he  worked  his  way  up  to  the  road,  coming  out  of 
the  gorge  several  rods  in  advance  of  where  the  horses  stood 
hitched  to  the  manzenita  bush. 

Still  holding  the  body  in  his  arms  he  attempted  to  unsnap 
the  halter  strap  with  which  they  were  tied,  intending  to  leave 
it  hanging  to  the  bush;  but  the  horses  were  frightened  at 
sight  of  the  limp  body  and  the  scent  of  blood,  and  drew 
back. 

He  might  have  untied  the  strap  from  the  tree  without 
difficulty,  but  if  this  were  done  it  must  be  allowed  to  drag 
on  the  ground  and  might  cause  the  horses  to  stumble  and 
again  throw  him  from  the  buckboard,  which  had  righted  it- 
self after  having  thrown  its  occupants  out.  He  laid  his  bur- 
den carefully  on  the  ground,  untied  the  strap  and  secured  it 
in  its  place,  again  lifted  his  child  in  his  arms,  got  upon  the 
buckboard  and  drove  with  as  much  speed  as  he  safely  could 
down  the  hill,  and  then  turned  off  to  the  left  into  a  by-road 


THERE   WAS  A   FAINT    FLUTTERING    THERE,    AND    RAISING    THE    BODY 
IN    HIS    ARMS   HE   WORKED     HIS    WAY   UP   TO   THE    ROAD,    COMING 
OUT   OF   THE   GORGE   SEVERAL   RODS  IN   ADVANCE  OF   WHERE  THE 
HORSES   STOOD   HITCHED   TO   THE  MANZINETA   BUSH. 
142 


OR,  JUST    A   CAMPIN*.  143 

which  he  knew  led  to  a  settler's  shanty  not  more  than  a  quar- 
ter of  a  mile  away. 

By  the  time  he  reached  it,  Johnny  was  showing  signs  of 
returning  life,  and  a  hope  that  he  might  not  be  so  badly  in- 
jured as  at  first  appeared  was  beginning  to  find  lodgment 
in  his  father's  breast. 

As  it  chanced,  the  only  occupant  of  the  shanty  at  the 
moment  was  a  woman,  her  husband  being  in  the  field,  and 
the  children  at  a  neighbor's  on  an  errand. 

Through  the  open  door  she  saw  a  stranger  approaching 
with  the  limp  body  of  a  child  in  his  arms,  and  understood  at 
once  that  an  accident  had  happened.  Catching  the  dinner- 
horn  from  the  nail  where  it  hung,  she  ran  to  the  back  door 
and  blew  several  loud  and  sharp  blasts,  then  rushed  back, 
and  without  stopping  to  ask  any  questions,  or  even  for  him 
to  reach  the  door,  called  to  Mr.  Parsons  to  "  come  right  in," 
at  the  same  time  arranging  the  bed  to  receive  the  body. 

John  Parsons  looked  his  thanks  and  laid  his  burden  down 
upon  the  place  prepared  for  it,  the  woman  assisting  him, 
and  placing  the  poor  broken  arm  in  as  natural  a  position  as 
possible.  As  she  did  so,  the  sufferer's  eyes  opened  and 
closed,  then  opened  again.  Then  his  lips  parted  and  a  low 
moan  escaped  them. 

John  Parsons  sank  down  by  the  bedside  and  looked  at 
his  boy  with  agony  depicted  in  every  lineament  of  his  face 
more  terrible  than  that  of  his  child's,  and  when  another 
moan  came  and  the  eyes  of  his  boy  were  turned  to  him  as 
if  pleading  for  help,  he  buried  his  face  in  the  bedclothes 
and  groaned  as  if  his  very  soul  was  being  wrung  from  him. 

"  You  had  better  go  for  a  doctor  at  once,"  said  Mrs. 
Jones,  for  that  was  the  woman's  name;  "  there's  none  nearer 
than  the  Landing,  ten  miles  away,  and  the  sooner  he  can  be 
got  here  the  better.  My  husband  will  be  here  in  a  few  mo- 


144  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEAJ 

ments,  and  we  will  take  the  best  care  of  the  child  we  know 
how  until  you  get  back;  and  after  all  he  may  not  be  so  badly 
hurt  as  he  appears  to  be;  if  it  is  only  a  broken  arm  it  doesn't 
really  amount  to  anything  very  serious  except  the  pain;  and 
the  sooner  it  is  set  the  less  that  will  be." 

John  Parsons  was  on  his  feet  and  out  of  the  door  almost 
before  Mrs.  Jones  had  ceased  speaking. 

Stripping  the  gears  from  one  of  his  horses  without  even 
unhitching  the  tugs  from  the  singletree,  he  jumped  upon  the 
animal's  back,  dashed  down  the  lane,  out  upon  the  main  road 
and  across  the  little  valley. 

When  he  reached  the  hill  upon  the  opposite  side  he 
sprang  from  his  seat  without  more  than  checking  the  speed 
of  his  horse  and  ran  by  his  side  up  the  incline,  keeping  the 
animal  in  a  trot,  but  reaching  the  top  with  his  steed  much 
less  exhausted  than  if  he  had  borne  the  weight  of  his  rider. 
Then  mounting  again  he  dashed  on  across  the  next  valley,  a 
race  of  a  mile  and  a  half,  with  the  speed  of  the  wind,  again 
springing  to  the  ground  as  the  steeper  portion  of  the  next 
hill  was  reached,  for  he  knew  that  an  animal  unused  to  long 
heats  at  his  best  paces  will  make  better  time  if  relieved  of  the 
rider's  weight  for  a  few  moments  occasionally  in  making 
steep  ascents. 

And  so  he  reached  the  little  town  at  the  Landing  with  his 
animal  covered  with  foam,  but  still  able  to  keep  a  sharp  run. 

The  appearance  of  horse  and  rider  as  they  passed  through 
the  one  main  street  which  the  town  could  boast  of,  drew 
everybody  to  their  doors,  and  when  they  saw  him  spring  to 
the  ground  in  front  of  the  doctor's  office,  a  dozen  persons 
gathered  about  to  learn  the  cause  of  his  hasty  ride. 

As  they  heard  him  tell  the  doctor  of  the  accident  to 
Johnny,  and  beg  that  he  would  hasten  with  all  possible 
speed,  and  that  he  would  loan  him  a  fresh  horse  so  he  might 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  145 

return  with  him,  making  certain  that  he  did  not  miss  the 
way,  there  were  expressions  of  sympathy  and  offers  of  the 
loan  of  horses  for  both,  if  the  doctor's  were  not  fresh. 
They  also  offered  to  carry  the  sad  news  to  Mrs.  Parsons, 
that  she  might  hasten  to  the  side  of  her  injured  child. 

"  Ef  you  would,  men,  you'd  be  doin'  me  a  mighty  great 
favor,"  he  said  in  reply  to  their  kindly  offers.  "Tell  her 
and  'Rastus  to  hitch  the  ponies  to  the  spring  wagon  and 
come  at  once.  Tell  'em  to  follow  the  Gravel  Hill  road  till 
they  come  to  the  limestone  bluffs — 'Rastus  '11  know  where 
I  mean — and  then  turn  to  the  left,  an*  it's  the  first  shanty 
they  come  to." 

Then  mounting  the  animal  which  had  been  led  out  to 
him,  he  dashed  away,  the  doctor  keeping  by  his  side,  his 
case  of  instruments  in  his  saddle-bags  hanging  upon  his 
saddle. 

When  the  party  who  had  volunteered  to  notify  Mrs. 
Parsons  of  the  accident  reached  the  cottage  it  was  already 
getting  dark,  and  a  lamp  was  burning  in  the  dining-room, 
where  supper  was  spread  and  the  family  waited  the  coming 
of  the  absent  ones,  now  momentarily  expected. 

Hearing  the  clatter  of  a  horse's  feet  on  the  hard  road, 
Mrs.  Parsons  went  to  the  door  just  as  the  rider  sprang  from 
his  saddle,  and  throwing  the  bridle  rein  over  the  hitching 
post,  advanced  up  the  gravel  walk. 

In  a  few  words  he  told  his  errand. 

"An  accident  had  happened;  the  horses,  taking  fright,  had 
thrown  Johnny  and  his  father  out  of  the  buggy.  Mr.  Par- 
sons had  escaped  unhurt,  but  Johnny's  arm  was  broken,  and 
he  was  lying  in  a  shanty  near  where  the  accident  occurred, 
and  to  which  Mr.  Parsons  had  returned  with  the  doctor, 
while  the  speaker  came  to  tell  Mrs.  Parsons,  that  she  might 
go  to  her  child  at  once."  . 

10 


146  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

Martha  Parsons  neither  screamed  nor  fainted.  She 
called  Erastus  and  bade  him  bring  the  ponies  and  spring 
wagon  while  she  hurried  to  get  together  linen  for  bandages, 
and  such  other  articles  as  might  be  most  needed. 

When  Erastus  drove  up  to  the  gate  she  called  to  him  to 
come  in  and  get  a  couple  of  feather  beds  and  some  cover- 
ing and  put  them  in  the  wagon,  for  she  knew  that  settlers 
in  the  mountains  were  not  always  supplied  with  a  super- 
abundance of  bedding.  And,  besides,  if  Johnny  was  not 
too  badly  hurt — and  the  man  who  brought  the  news  of  the 
accident  had  conveyed  the  impression  that  a  broken  arm  was 
the  extent  of  the  injury — he  could  be  laid  on  the  bed  and 
brought  home  in  the  spring  wagon  at  once. 

Driving  at  night  over  a  hilly  road  is  not  the  most  rapid 
way  of  transit,  but  the  ponies  were  urged  forward  with  as 
much  speed  as  possible,  considering  the  darkness,  and  just 
at  midnight  were  halted  at  the  door  of  Mr.  Jones'  shanty. 

The  inmates  had  heard  them  coming  and  Mr.  Parsons 
was  standing  at  the  gate  waiting  for  them. 

"I'm  mortal  glad  you're  come,  mother,"  he  said,  as  he 
lifted  his  wife  from  the  wagon.  "Johnny's  pretty  bad  hurt 
the  doctor  says,  but  he's  set  his  arm  and  the  lad's  sleepin'  a 
little  now. 

"  The  folks  here  are  es  kind  es  kin  be,  and  everything 
has  been  done  that  kin  be  done  to  make  him  comfortable, 
but  the  doctor  says  he  can't  be  moved  for  several  days,  an' 
maybe  weeks,  and  I  reckon  'Rastus  had  better  go  back  an' 
write  to  one  of  the  girls  to  come  home  at  once,  for  I  know 
you  won't  leave  Johnny,  an'  there  ought  to  be  some  one  to 
home  to  see  to  things." 

Mrs.  Parsons  was  unwilling  to  have  the  girls  leave  school 
in  the  middle  of  the  term  if  it  could  be  avoided,  and  she  sug- 
gested that  they  wait  a  few  .days. 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  147 

It  might  be  that  Johnny  could  be  moved  sooner  than  the 
doctor  thought.  At  any  rate  they  had  better  wait  a  little 
and  see;  especially  as  Erastus  expressed  a  willingness  to  get 
on  as  well  as  he  could  without  a  cook  and  housekeeper  for  a 
time,  if  thought  best. 

And  so  he  returned  home,  leaving  both  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Parsons  at  the  shanty  with  the  injured  boy. 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Parsons  went  to  the  Landing,  rid- 
ing the  horse  which  he  had  left  at  the  shanty  the  day  before 
when  he  went  for  the  doctor,  and  leading  the  borrowed  one, 
which  he  returned  to  its  owner.  Then  taking  his  own,  he 
rode  to  his  own  home.  Here  he  remained  but  a  few  hours 
and  was  again  on  his  way  to  the  shanty  among  the  hills  to 
resume  his  watch  by  the  bedside  of  his  child. 

The  doctor  came  again  the  next  day,  and  every  day  for 
many  days  and  weeks;  for  Johnny  was  not  moved  from  the 
shanty  whose  inmates  had  shown  so  much  hospitality,  for 
three  long  months;  and  when  at  last  he  was  taken  home  his 
parents  knew  that  he  would  never  again  be  the  healthy,  rol- 
licksome  boy  he  had  been,  going  everywhere  about  the  house 
and  ranch,  and  carrying  sunshine  wherever  he  went,  but  that 
he  was  to  be  a  cripple  always;  the  injury  to  his  back  making 
it  impossible  that  he  should  ever  stand  erect  or  be  able  to 
walk  again. 

When  it  became  evident  that  weeks,  and  maybe  months, 
would  elapse  before  Johnny  could  be  moved  from  the  Jones 
shanty,  the  girls  had  been  written  to  as  their  father  at  first 
suggested,  and  had  come  immediately  home  and  assumed  the 
care  of  household  affairs. 

Occasionally  one  of  them  took  Mrs.  Parsons'  place  at  the 
bedside  of  the  sufferer,  while  the  mother  returned  to  the  cot- 
tage to  see  that  everything  was  going  right,  or  for  a  rest  of  a 
night  or  two. 


148  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

John  Parsons  had  also  remained  at  the  Jones  shanty  the 
greater  portion  of  the  time;  for  Johnny  was  fretful  in  his 
sufferings,  and  no  one  could  lift  or  turn  him  so  well  as  his 
father,  whom  quite  as  much  as  his  mother  he  wanted  con- 
stantly near  him.  And  so  he  had  remained,  trusting  every- 
thing on  the  ranch  to  Erastus,  and  going  home  only  when  it 
was  necessary  to  obtain  provisions,  or  a  change  of  clothing 
for  himself  or  wife,  or  something  for  Johnny. 

No  one  could  possibly  have  shown  more  kindness  and 
sympathy  than  did  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones,  who  were  thus  called 
upon  to  act  the  part  of  good  Samaritans  to  those  whom  they 
had  never  before  seen.  They  even  consented  that  their  own 
children  should  leave  them  for  a  time — when  the  fever  had 
set  in,  and  Johnny  was  at  the  worst,  that  their  noise  might 
not  disturb  him,  and  they  had  been  taken  to  the  Parsons 
cottage,  where  they  remained  some  weeks  and  were  cared 
for  by  Erastus  and  the  girls. 

When  the  crippled  boy  was  at  last  removed  to  his  own 
home,  these  kind  people  beneath  whose  roof  he  had  been  so 
long,  would  not  consent  to  make  any  charge  for  their  trouble 
or  to  accept  any  pay,  except  such  as  was  forced  upon  them 
in  the  way  of  presents  to  Mrs.  Jones  and  the  children. 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  149 

CHAPTER  XV. 

BUILDING    THE   DAM. 

The  events  recorded  in  our  last  chapter  served,  for  a  time, 
to  arouse  John  Parsons  from  the  unhealthy  mental  condition 
into  which  he  was  sinking;  for  so  long  as  the  lad's  life  was 
in  danger,  every  other  thought  gave  way  before  the  one  great 
fear  of  losing  Johnny,  his  baby,  his  only  boy.  But  when  the 
more  imminent  danger  was  past,  the  fear  of  losing  their  home 
came  again  with  redoubled  force  as  he  realized  that  his  child 
must  always  remain  a  cripple,  dependent  upon  others  for 
every  necessity  and  enjoyment  in  life. 

It  was  at  thought  of  this,  too,  that  Mrs.  Parsons  broke 
down. 

Always  heretofore  she  had  been  the  one  to  preserve  a 
cheerful  countenance,  and  to  encourage  her  husband  with 
expressions  of  hope  that  the  danger  to  their  home  might  not 
be  so  great  as  he  feared,  or  that  if  so  there  would  come  some 
way  out  of  it. 

"  The  law  will  compel  the  company  to  make  good  the 
damages  if  they  occur,"  she  would  tell  him;  "and  even  if  we 
lose  the  land  we  will  still  have  the  stock  and  household  goods 
and  a  nice  little  sum  of  money  in  the  bank,  and  we  are  not 
very  old  yet  and  will  manage  to  live  comfortable,  I  am  sure; 
so  don't  worry,  dear,  it  will  all  come  out  right  in  the 
end." 

But  now  ! 

When  she  got  down  from  the  spring  wagon,  and  Johnny 
was  lifted  out  and  carried  in  and  laid  upon  the  cot,  from 


150  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

which,  unaided,  she  knew  he  was  never  to  rise  again,  an  awful 
feeling  of  desolation  came  over  her.  She  was  as  one  bewil- 
dered and  lost  in  the  woods.  The  sky,  the  hills,  everything 
about  her,  took  on  the  look  they  have  when  seen  through  a 
piece  of  smoked  or  stained  glass.  The  house  itself,  nay,  the 
very  faces  of  her  husband  and  children,  seemed  strange  and 
unnatural,  and  she  moved  from  room  to  room  as  if  in  a 
dream,  and  when  she  spoke  she  heard  her  own  voice  as  if  it 
came  from  afar  off,  and  was  the  voice  of  another. 

All  day  she  was  in  this  condition;  but  the  second  day  she 
aroused  herself  by  an  effort  of  the  will  and  resumed  her  usual 
round  of  duties,  except  that  much  of  her  time  was  of  neces- 
sity given  to  the  crippled  boy,  who  lay  in  a  little  cot  which 
had  been  made  for  him  and  placed  on  wheels  that  he  might 
be  moved  about  the  house  easily  and  out  into  the  yard  on 
pleasant  days. 

Her  husband  now  spent  most  of  his  time  in  the  house. 
The  winter  rains,  which  had  set  in  some  weeks  previously, 
rendered  out-door  work  impossible  for  days  at  a  time,  and  if 
they  had  not  done  so  John  Parsons  had  lost  all  love  for 
work  on  the  ranch.  Besides,  Johnny  claimed  his  almost  un- 
divided attention  now. 

The  little  fellow  had  taken  to  his  father  from  before  the 
time  when  he  took  his  first  baby  steps,  and  had  never  been 
quite  so  well  contented  as  when  in  his  arms,  or  perched  upon 
his  shoulders,  or  following  him  about  the  place;  and  now  he 
could  not  bear  to  have  him  out  of  his  sight  during  his  waking 
moments. 

Often,  too,  in  the  night  he  would  waken  and  call  in  a 
weak,  piping  voice,  so  different  from  what  it  had  been  in 
health;  and  his  father  would  arise  and  sit  by  his  side  for 
hours,  moving  his  poor  wasted  body  this  way  or  that  to  give 
him  a  little  more  ease,  or  divert  his  mind  by  tales  such  as 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  151 

children  love  to  hear,  until  he  fell  asleep  again  or  forgot  his 
pain. 

During  the  day  he  wheeled  him  about  the  house;  or  if  it 
was  sunny,  carried  him  out  in  his  arms  to  the  poultry  yard, 
that  he  might  drop  corn  to  his  chickens  and  ducks;  or  to 
the  pasture  lot,  that  he  might  put  out  his  hand  and  pet  the 
colt  that  had  been  promised  should  be  his  when  both  were 
grown,  upon  which  promise  he  had  built  a  thousand  castles 
in  the  air,  of  encounters  with  grizzly  bears  and  Indians, 
besides  taking  premiums  for  speed  at  all  the  fairs  in  the 
country. 

It  seemed  that  the  man  had  but  one  thought,  one  object 
in  life  now — that  of  caring  for  the  crippled  boy. 

Certain  it  is  that  he  never  laughed,  except  when  once  in 
a  great  while  something  provoked  the  child  to  laughter;  then 
the  man  always  joined  in,  but  at  no  other  time  did  any  mem- 
ber of  the  family  see  a  smile  upon  his  face;  and  he  never 
went  from  home  any  more,  not  even  to  a  neighbor's. 

One  day  word  came  that  there  was  to  be  a  meeting  at 
the  school  house  to  devise  means  to  save  the  settlers  from 
the  overflow  of  the  mines,  and  that  his  neighbors  were 
anxious  for  him  to  be  present,  for  by  this  time  the  danger 
was  apparent  to  all.  The  floods  caused  by  the  rains  had 
overflowed  the  valley  to  a  much  greater  extent  than  usual, 
although  the  amount  of  water  which  had  fallen  was  no  more 
than  common  at  this  season  of  the  year. 

The  washings  from  the  mines  had  filled  the  creek  bed, 
and  at  places  had  formed  dams  that  checked  the  water  and 
caused  it  to  overflow  fields  never  before  submerged,  and 
to  set  back  upon  little  valleys  which  opened  into  the  larger 
one  through  which  the  creek  passed.  Much  damage  to 
vineyards  on  the  lower  lands  had  already  been  done  or  must 
speedily  occur,  if  the  water  was  not  drawn  off. 


152  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO    SEA*, 

The  water  was  thick  with  the  clay  of  the  hills  washed 
down  by  the  mining  companies,  and  in  places  where  the  dams 
had  formed,  and  for  long  distances  on  either  side,  sand  and 
gravel,  brought  down  by  the  swift,  strong  current  was 
being  deposited  upon  the  tillable  lands  in  large  quantities. 

Evidently  something  must  be  done,  and  the  messenger 
who  brought  notice  of  the  meeting  urged  strongly  that  Mr. 
Parsons  be  present  and  advise  regarding  the  action  to  be 
taken. 

"  'Tain't  no  use,"  he  said  to  his  wife  when  the  neighbor 
was  gone.  "  'Tain't  no  use,  but  I'll  go  ef  you  want  I  should. 
You'd  better  send  Rastus,  though,  and  let  me  stay  home 
with  Johnny." 

The  man's  spirit  Was  sadly  broken.  He  felt  that  it  was 
useless  to  contend  with  the  company;  that  everything  was 
virtually  lost  already,  and  had  dropped  into  the  habit  of 
leaving  everything  to  his  wife  and  Erastus,  doing  without 
questioning  whatever  they  suggested,  but  appearing  unwill- 
ing even  to  advise  with  them;  as  if  he  felt  himself  unworthy, 
having  failed  so  utterly,  to  give  advice  upon  which  depended 
the  welfare  of  others. 

"  I  think  you  had  better  go  yourself,  father,"  replied 
Mrs.  Parsons  to  the  suggestion  of  her  husband  that  Erastus 
should  attend  the  meeting  in  his  stead.  "  You  are  the  head 
of  the  family,  and  you  will  have  more  influence  than  a  young- 
er man.  Erastus  can  go  too,  if  you  and  he  wish.  I  think 
everybody  ought  to  go  and  see  if  some  means  cannot  be 
devised  to  prevent  our  homes  from  being  destroyed." 

The  meeting  of  the  settlers  was  held  the  following  after- 
noon, and  John  Parsons  went.  So  did  Erastus.  So  did 
everybody  else  in  the  neighborhood. 

Somebody  nominated  Mr.  Parsons  for  chairman,  but  he 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  153 

declined,  and  Mr.  Ritchie  was  elected  to  preside,  and  Eras- 
tus  Hemmingway  was  made  secretary.  Then  the  meeting  was 
declared  opened  and  expression  of  opinion  as  to  the  course 
to  be  pursued  asked  for. 

The  result  was  a  variety  of  suggestions  and  motions. 
Some  favored  applying  to  the  courts  for  an  injunction  to  stop 
the  operations  at  the  mines,  but  others  pointed  out  that  such 
efforts  had  been  made  in  similar  cases  in  other  parts  of  the 
country  and  had  failed,  or  been  delayed  until  too  late  to  save 
the  property  of  those  applying. 

Others  proposed  petitioning  the  legislature  for  the  pas- 
sage of  a  bill  forbidding  hydraulic  mining;  but  as  such  a 
law  could  not  be  obtained  for  a  year,  if  at  all,  this  proposi- 
tion was  not  favorably  received,  and  finally  the  meeting  ad- 
journed without  having  decided  upon  anything,  but  with  the 
understanding  that  they  were  to  meet  again  the  next  after- 
noon and  consider  the  matter  still  further. 

When  they  reassembled  the  next  day  the  whole  question 
was  again  gone  over  and  yet  nothing  could  be  agreed  upon. 

To  bring  suit  in  court  for  damages  would  be  to  become 
involved  in  endless  litigation;  since  they  would  be  contend- 
ing against  those  whose  resources  were  virtually  limitless,  and 
whose  wealth  would  enable  them  to  protract  the  suits  indefi- 
nitely; so  that  if  in  the  end  the  settlers  should  be  success- 
ful in  obtaining  judgment  against  the  companies  it  would  be 
quite  as  disastrous  as  to  quietly  submit  to  the  outrage. 

If  they  sued  at  all,  they  must  make  every  company,  the 
debris  from  whose  mines  emptied  into  the  gulch  above  them, 
parties  to  the  complaint,  and  would  thus  find  arrayed  against 
them  men  worth  millions  of  dollars,  organized  in  the  form  of 
a  corporation,  proverbially  soulless,  and  certainly  without 
mercy,  or  sense  of  justice,  or  honor,  to  prevent  them  from 
taking  advantage  of  every  quibble  of  the  law,  made,  too,  in 


154  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

many  instances,  expressly  to  delay  justice,  and  administered 
by  officers  who  owed  their  election  to  the  men  who  controlled 
the  corporate  capital  of  the  state. 

Threats  of  personal  violence  were  not  lacking. 

There  were  those  who  recalled  the  fact  that  more  than 
once  in  the  history  of  the  state,  thieves,  blacklegs  and  ballot- 
box  staffers,  even  those  who  assumed  to  have  been  elected 
to  high  offices,  had  been  hung  upon  hastily-erected  gallows 
by  men  whose  only  authority  for  doing  so  was  their  natural 
right  to  protect  themselves  and  families  from  being  robbed 
and  insulted  by  organized  bands  of  plunderers.  A  large 
majority,  however,  favored  only  legal  means  for  the  protec- 
tion of  their  homes,  and  it  was  finally  agreed  to  build  a  dam 
across  the  gorge  through  which  the  debris  from  the  mines 
flowed,  at  a  point  above  the  agricultural  settlements,  and  by 
cutting  through  the  hill,  turn  the  mass  of  slickings  into  an- 
other gorge,  which  would  cause  them  to  enter  the  river  at  a 
point  below,  and  where  no  damage  would  be  done  to  occu- 
pied lands. 

During  the  discussions  at  these  meetings  John  Parsons 
had  said  little,  and  that  little  only  when  appealed  to  for  his 
opinion;  but  when  the  building  of  the  dam  and  the  cutting 
of  a  new  way  for  the  overflowing  debris  had  been  decided 
upon,  he  called  Erastus  aside,  and  after  conferring  with  him 
a  moment,  returned  and  subscribed  five  hundred  dollars  to- 
wards the  work  to  be  done. 

The  announcement  of  his  subscription  was  greeted  with 
cheers  by  the  little  body  of  men  there  assembled. 

"It  ain't  all  my  own  subscription,  men,"  he  said,  when 
the  cheering  had  ceased.  "  I  don't  know  if  any  of  it  right- 
fully is  mine.  It's  part  of  the  money  we  was  a  savin'  up  fer 
to  buy  a  ranch  fer  Erastus  with,  and  it  honestly  belongs  to 
him.  He's  earned  every  cent  of  it,  an'  more,  too;  but  you 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  155 

see  if  the  work  goes  on  an'  our  homes  is  saved,  there's  got 
to  be  lots  of  money  comin'  from  somewhere,  an'  doctors' 
bills  and  sich  has  tuck  'bout  everything  we  made  last  year, 
an'  bein'  as  Rastus  is  willin',  we'll  plank  up  the  five  hundred 
es  soon  es  the  committee  that  is  to  have  charge  of  the  work 
is  ready  to  begin." 

Others  now  came  forward  and  subscribed,  a  few  putting 
down  five  hundred  each,  and  many  others,  smaller  sums; 
the  understanding  being  that  such  as  could  not  pay  money 
should  be  allowed  to  work  out  their  subscriptions  at  the 
price  paid  to  other  workmen.  Committees  we*e  appointed 
to  solicit  assistance  from  those  living  further  up  the  valley 
who  might  in  time  be  injured  if  the  proposed  work  was  not 
done,  and  to  have  charge  of  the  work,  which  it  was  decided 
should  be  commenced  immediately. 

And  now  John  Parsons  took  fresh  hope.  It  was  possible 
after  all  that  his  home  might  be  saved,  and  with  the  possi- 
bility something  of  his  old  cheery  manner  came  back  to  him. 

The  work  of  cutting  through  the  hill  into  the  neighbor- 
ing gorge  was  begun  at  once.  A  large  number  of  workmen 
were  employed,  and  everybody  who  was  directly  interested 
turned  out  and  worked  with  a  will,  rain  or  shine.  A  tunnel 
was  driven  into  the  side  of  the  hill,  and  whole  kegs  of  pow- 
der exploded  therein,  rending  the  earth  and  aiding  greatly 
in  the  work  of  excavation,  and  at  last  the  work  was  so  far 
completed  that  a  portion  of  the  water  and  floating  debris  was 
turned  aside  into  the  new  channel. 

The  rains,  too,  had  now  ceased,  and  as  the  waters  sub- 
sided the  extent  of  the  damage  done  could  be  positively  de- 
termined. 

In  places,  banks  of  sand  and  gravel  many  feet  deep  ex- 
tended across  fields  regarded  by  their  owners  as  the  most 
valuable  in  their  possession.  In  other  places  the  channel  of 


156  DRIVEN   FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

the  little  stream  had  been  entirely  choked  up,  and  a  new  one 
cut  by  the  waters  through  pastures  and  grain  lands,  and  in 
yet  others,  where  little  of  the  coarser  debris  had  been  de- 
posited, the  long  standing  of  the  water  had  greatly  injured 
vineyards  and  orchards,  the  vines  and  tree  trunks  being 
thickly  coated  with  the  fine  clay  which  the  water  had  held  in 
solution. 

On  the  whole  the  damage  was  less  than  many  had  feared, 
and  with  the  expectation  of  preventing  any  further  injury  by 
the  erection  of  the  dam,  hope  revived  in  the  breasts  of  all, 
and  they  began  repairing  as  fast  as  possible  the  injury  already 
done,  and  the  cultivation  of  their  vineyards  and  fields  for  the 
coming  crop. 

The  Parsons  ranch  had  suffered  with  the  rest,  but  not 
more  than  many  others.  A  hundred  grape  vines  standing 
upon  ground  near  the  creek,  were  killed  or  badly  injured. 
Several  banks  of  gravel,  mingled  with  larger  stones,  extended 
across  some  of  the  most  fertile  fields,  the  total  injury  amount- 
ing to  a  thousand  dollars  or  more,  in  prospective,  but  not 
seriously  affecting  the  immediate  income  of  the  family  occu- 
pying the  white  cottage  under  the  bluff,  around  whose  open 
porch  still  clambered  rose  bushes  heavy  with  their  weight  of 
yellow,  and  red,  and  crimson  blooms. 

As  soon  as  possible  after  Johnny  had  been  brought  home 
from  the  shanty  in  the  hills  where  he  lay  so  many  weeks, 
Jennie  and  Lucy  had  returned  to  school  in  San  Francisco, 
Mrs.  Parsons  being  now  more  than  ever  determined  that 
they  should  not  fail  to  obtain  an  education. 

"If  we  leave  them  nothing  else,  John,  let  us  at  least  give 
them  an  education,"  she  had  said  to  her  husband,  and  he  had 
made  no  objections,  though  the  house  seemed  doubly  lonely 
without  them. 

To  help  Mrs.  Parsons  with  the  lighter  work  they  secured 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  157 

the  assistance  of  a  young  girl  whose  parents  had  moved  into 
the  neighborhood  but  the  year  before,  and  who,  having  but 
little  to  begin  on,  were  not  unwilling  that  their  daughter 
should  find  a  home  where  she  would  be  kindly  treated  and 
paid  for  washing  the  dishes  and  such  other  chores  as  her  age 
and  experience  fitted  her  for. 

As  they  had  missed  a  portion  of  one  term  the  girls  did 
not  go  home  for  the  short  spring  vacation,  but  remained  in 
the  city  and  studied,  in  order  to  keep  up  with  their  classes; 
and  when  they  did  return  in  midsummer  Lucy  was  engaged 
to  be  married  to  James  Annelsey. 

"  The  wedding  was  not  to  take  place  for  at  least  a  year 
yet,"  she  told  her  mother  in  announcing  the  engagement. 

Mr.  Annelsey  had  desired  an  immediate  union,  but  to 
this  she  had  interposed  a  decided  negative,  and  he  had  at 
last  consented  that  she  should  remain  at  school  a  year  longer, 
when  they  were  to  be  married  and  he  would  take  her  to  New 
York  to  reside. 

This  was  not  wholly  unexpected  by  the  family.  They 
knew  that  Mr.  Annelsey  had  followed  the  young  ladies  to 
San  Francisco,  and  that  he  had  been  a  frequent  caller  upon 
them  while  there.  Jennie  had  even  intimated  in  one  of  her 
letters  to  her  mother  that  she  thought  Lucy  and  he  would  be 
married  some  day. 

She  said  less  of  Ensign,  who  was  almost  as  frequent  a 
visitor  as  Annelsey. 

In  fact  the  two  young  men  had  made  up  their  slight  dif- 
ferences and  frequently  called  upon  the  girls  in  company,  or 
together  arranged  with  them  for  attending  upon  places  of 
amusement;  and  if  Jennie  had  chosen  she  could  have  in- 
formed her  mother  of  probabilities  of  another  marriage,  almost 
as  certain  of  taking  place  as  was  that  of  Lucy  to  Mr.  An- 
nelsey. 


158  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

Jennie,  however,  was  not  formally  engaged  to  Mr.  Ensign. 

He  had  his  own  way  to  make  in  the  world,  and  had 
passed  the  age  when  men  are  apt  to  act  hastily  in  such  af- 
fairs. He  meant  Jennie  to  understand  that  he  preferred  her 
to  all  others,  yet  he  did  not  think  it  well  to  bind  her  by 
formal  engagement  until  he  had  something  more  ahead  upon 
which  they  could  begin  life  together. 

Times  for  laboring  men,  and  especially  for  skilled 
mechanics  like  Ensign,  were  good  just  then,  but  the  stand- 
ard of  living  for  all  classes  was  also  high,  and  the  art  of 
saving  large  fortunes  out  of  salaries  of  thirty  dollars  or  forty 
dollars  a  week  in  private  life  is  even  yet  not  well  understood 
except  by  a  few  railroad  officials  and  presidents  of  savings 
banks. 

Mr.  Annelsey,  infatuated  with  Lucy,  and  having  no 
necessity  for  delay  on  account  of  pecuniary  matters,  had 
proposed  the  moment  he  found  his  courage  sufficient  for  the 
ordeal;  and  she,  although  knowing  in  her  heart  that  she" 
loved  Erastus  better,  yet  thinking  that  he  cared  nothing  for 
her,  and  that  her  parents  desired  her  union  with  Mr.  Annel- 
sey, accepted  him.  But  when  he  urged  an  immediate  mar- 
riage, her  heart  failed  her,  and  she  begged  for  time,  giving 
as  her  reason  a  desire  to  remain  at  school  another  year,  and 
so  fit  herself  the  better  to  fill  the  position  which  she  should 
occupy  as  the  wife  of  one  who  had  the  entrance  of  polite 
society  in  the  first  city  of  the  country. 

In  this  Lucy  was  partially  sincere.  She  did  not  greatly 
love  the  man  to  whom  she  had  engaged  herself.  As  an 
escort  to  places  of  amusement,  or  a  companion  upon  days 
of  merry-making,  she  would  perhaps  have  chosen  him  in 
preference  to  any  gentleman  of  her  acquaintance,  and  was 
not  very  sorry  that  she  had  promised  to  be  his  wife.  She 
cried  a  little  when  she  was  first  alone  after  having  done  so, 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  159 

and  even  told  herself  that  she  was  doing  it  to  save  her 
father  and  the  rest  of  the  family  from  poverty,  and  because 
her  heart  was  broken  at  Erastus's  desertion  of  her  for  Julia 
Ennis;  but  when  she  had  cried  her  cry  out,  she  did  not 
worry  greatly  about  it,  but  began  picturing  to  herself  the  life 
she  would  lead  when  she  was  the  wife  of  one  who  could 
supply  every  want,  without  having  to  stop  to  consider 
whether  something  else  would  not  do  as  well,  and  be  more 
economical. 

She  honestly  wished  to  fit  herself  as  far  as  possible  to 
appear  well  in  the  society  into  which  her  husband  would 
take  her,  and  intended  to  study  harder  than  ever,  hoping 
thereby  to  accomplish  it. 

And  so  it  had  been  agreed  between  them  that  Annelsey 
should  go  at  once  to  New  York,  where  his  presence  was  de- 
sired by  his  parents,  and  that  Lucy  should  remain  in  school 
another  year,  when  he  was  to  return,  and  their  marriage  be 
consummated. 


l6o  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEAJ 

CHAPTER   XV. 

THE  DISAPPOINTED  LOVER. 

Of  course,  Erastus  was  told  of  Lucy's  engagement  to  Mr. 
Annelsey.  In  fact,  he  learned  it  from  Jennie  in  advance  of 
any  other  member  of  the  family. 

As  they  were  driving  home  from  the  landing  on  their  re- 
turn from  San  Francisco  and  chatting  of  those  things  which 
are  of  more' interest  to  young  people,  namely,  other  young 
people,  Jennie  suddenly  broke  out  with: 

"  Say,  Luce,  I'm  going  to  tell  Ras,"  and  without  waiting 
for  a  reply  or  giving  any  heed  to  the  blushes  which  flooded 
her  sister's  face  and  neck,  she  rattled  on  with  all  the  speed 
which  her  tongue  could  command,  "  How'd  you  like  t'  have 
Mr.  Annelsey  for  a  brother-in-law,  Ras  ?  I  know  you  didn't 
used  to  like  him  very  well,  but  you'll  have  to  now,  for  Lucy 
and  he  are  engaged,  and  are  going  to  be  married  when  he 
comes  back  from  New  York  in  about  a  year.  There  now, 
Luce,  it's  out,  and  you  won't  have  to  be  carrying  the  awful 
load  of  having  to  tell  it  any  longer." 

"  I  think  you  are  just  as  mean  as  you  can  be,"  retorted 
Lucy,  half  angry  and  uncertain  whether  to  laugh-  or  cry.  "  I 
hadn't  said  a  word  about  Mr.  Ensign,  who  has  been  almost 
as  constant  as  your  shadow  ever  since  we  met  him  on  the 
boat.  You  would  be  engaged  to  him,  too — you  know  you 
would — if  it  wasn't  that  he  has  got  nothing  to  go  to  house- 
keeping with.  So,  there  now,  Ras,  you  know  all  about  us 
girls,  and  can  confess  that  you  are  going  to  marry  Julia 
Ennis  if  you  want  to  without  blushing." 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  161 

But  Erastus  made  no  such  confession,  and  instead  of 
blushing,  his  face  became  very  white,  and  he  looked  straight 
ahead  and  did  not  speak  for  some  seconds,  and  then  said  in 
a  voice  which  sounded  hoarse  and  unnatural: 

"  I  am  not  going  to  marry  Julia  Ennis  or  anybody  else." 

After  that  little  more  was  said  for  some  time. 

Once  or  twice  Jennie,  who  felt  that  she  was  the  innocent 
cause  of  the  sudden  silence  which  had  fallen  upon  them,  at- 
tempted to  start  the  conversation  again  by  asking  questions 
about  neighbors  or  affairs  on  the  ranch,  but  Erastus  only 
replied  in  the  fewest  words  possible,  and  still  looked  straight 
in  front  of  him. 

Jennie  was  half  inclined  to  be  offended  at  this.  She 
thought  him  angry  because  Lucy  had  engaged  herself  to  a 
nran  whom  he  did  not  like.  Could  she  have  seen  his  face 
she  would  have  known  that  some  feeling  deeper  than  mere 
dislike  for  Annelsey  was  at  work  within  his  breast. 

As  for  Lucy,  the  assertion  of  Erastus,  that  he  was  not 
going  to  marry  Julia  Ennis  or  anybody  else,  gave  her  a  sud- 
den start  and  a  momentary  insight  into  his  true  feelings. 

Was  it  possible  after  all  that  he  loved  her  ? 

The  thought  sent  all  the  blood  rushing  back  upon  her 
heart,  and  for  a  moment  she  felt  that  she  should  suffocate. 
Then  came  another  thought.  Perhaps  Erastus  had  proposed 
to  Julia  and  been  rejected.  This  she  felt  could  not  be  un- 
less Julia  had  suddenly  become  enamored  of  some  new 
admirer,  for  certainly  she  had  always  shown  a  preference 
for  Erastus  over  the  other  young  men  of  the  neighbor- 
hood. 

Still  the  thought  clung  to  Lucy  that  such  might  be  the 
case,  and  that  instead  of  feeling  bad  because  of  her  own 
engagement  to  another,  his  silence  was  caused  by  pain  at 
being  reminded  of  his  refusal  by  Julia,  and  her  whole  mood 


l62  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

changed,  and  she  became  as  cold  and  hard  as  he  himself 
appeared. 

As  they  neared  home  she  began  talking  glibly  of  any- 
thing and  everything  she  could  think  of — the  presents  they 
had  brought  for  each  member  of  the  family — toys  for  Johnny, 
a  dress  for  mother,  a  neck-tie  for  Erastus  himself,  and  a 
silver  tobacco-box  for  father — all  bought  with  money  saved 
out  of  that  sent  them  for  their  own  use;  going  on  from  this 
to  tell  of  their  school,  and  of  a  couple  of  girls  who  came  on 
the  boat  with  them  as  far  as  Sacramento,  where  their  parents 
lived;  and  how  these  girls  were  related  to  one  of  their  own 
neighbors,  and  how  in  answer  to  their  inquiries,  Jennie  and 
she  had  told  them  all  about  this  neighbor ;  how  near  they 
were  to  their  own  home;  how  their  ranch  looked,  and  how 
it  had  been  injured  by  the  washings  from  the  mines. 

Here  she  came  to  a  sudden  stop. 

She  had  unintentionally  run  upon  that  which  they  were 
all  trying  to  avoid  the  mention  of,  and  there  came  to  her  not 
only  a  knowledge  of  her  blunder,  but  an  entirely  new  feeling 
— a  feeling  that  she  was  somehow  responsible  for  the  losses 
and  sufferings  of  this  family  and  of  every  other  family  in  the 
valley  whose  homes  were  endangered  by  the  operations  of 
the  hydraulic  mining  companies  at  Gravel  Hill. 

At  least  she  had  arrayed  herself  on  the  side  of  the  com- 
panies; was  engaged  to  be  married  to  one  who  was  interested 
in  the  continuance  of  the  work  which  was  certain  to  bring 
more  loss  and  suffering  to  these  people. 

She  was  no  longer  of  them  or  with  them;  for  from  the 
moment  she  became  the  wife  of  James  Annelsey  her  interests 
would  be  opposed  to  those  of  everyone  she  had  known  since 
they  settled  in  the  valley. 

Even  her  father  and  mother,  and  Erastus,  must  feel  that 
she  had  deliberately  chosen  to  desert  them  in  the  hour  of 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  163 

their  greatest  loss,  and  had  gone  over  to  their  enemies  in 
order  to  save  herself  from  sharing  in  the  hardships  which 
might  be  coming  upon  them. 

All  this  passed  through  her  mind  in  an  instant,  and  she 
sank  down  in  her  seat  with  a  feeling  of  shame,  and  a  hatred 
of  herself  which  made  it  impossible  to  say  a  word  more. 

"  No  wonder  Erastus  is  silent,"  she  thought.  "  He  can- 
not bear  even  to  speak  to  one  who  seems  so  utterly  selfish. 
Oh!  why  did  I  never  think  of  it  in  that  light  before?  It  is 
that  which  has  made  him  so  cold  to  me  ever  since  Mr.  An- 
nelsey  first  came.  He  has  thought  all  the  time  that  I  was 
trying  to  save  myself  from  any  suffering  that  may  come  upon 
the  rest  of  them.  Oh,  if  I  could  only  die!" 

By  this  time,  however,  Erastus  had  partially  recovered 
from  the  blow  which  had  fallen  so  suddenly,  if  not  unexpect- 
edly, and  was  able  to  take  up  the  thread  of  conversation 
where  Lucy  had  dropped  it;  and  Jennie,  anxious  not  to  reach 
home  in  such  a  frozen  silence  as  to  attract  the  notice  of  their 
mother,  also  chimed  in,  thus  giving  her  sister  time  to  rally 
again;  and  when  they  stopped  in  front  of  the  cottage  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Parsons,  the  former  carrying  Johnny  in  his  arms, 
came  out  to  welcome  them,  they  thought  they  had  never  seen 
their  daughters  in  a  gayer  mood,  and  attributed  it  to  joy  at 
being  home  again  after  such  a  long  absence. 

When  Mrs.  Parsons  told  her  husband  of  Lucy's  engage- 
ment he  remained  silent  for  a  time,  and  then  said: 

"  I  s'pose  it's  natural,  Marty,  an'  what's  natural  is  giner- 
ally  right,  but  someway  I'm  afeard  Lucy  will  be  sorry  fer  it 
some  day. 

"I  ain't  got  nothin*  in  particular  agin  the  young  man, 
but  I'd  a  heap  ruther  she'd  a  married  Rastus,  an'  I  feel  cer- 
tain he'd  a  asked  her  ef  Mr.  Annelsey  hadn't  got  in  his  way 
and  he  seen  that  Lucy  kind  o'  took  to  him;  though  I  never 


164  DRIVEN   FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

could  make  out  that  she  loved  him  so  very  much  while  he 
was  a  comin'  here  to  see  her. 

"  Maylje  it's  all  right  as  it  is,"  he  continued,  after  a  mo- 
ment's pause.  "At  least  she  won't  want  fer  somethin'  to  eat 
or  to  wear.  An'  maybe  it  don't  make  any  odds  how  it's  got, 
only  so  you  get  it. 

"I  used  ter  think,"  he  went  on,  "that  nobody  couldn't  go 
to  heaven  that  took  what  they  hadn't  earned,  but  I  d'know. 
Maybe  there  ain't  no  heaven,  'er  no  hell;  an'  no  right  and  no 
wrong, — that  we're  just  put  here  like  the  wild  beasts  to  fight 
fer  what  we  git,  and  that  them  that  can  git  the  most  is  the 
best  fellers. 

"  If  a  man  or  a  child  is  hungry  and  takes  a  loaf  of  bread, 
they  send  him  to  jail,  because  that's  a  vi'lation  of  the  law; 
but  ef  he  has  money  to  start  on  an'  bribes  congris  to  pass  a 
law  so  he  kin  rob  a  lot  of  poor  folks  of  everything  they  have, 
as  fast  as  they  can  get  anything  together,  why,  they're  makin' 
money  because  they've  got  more  talents  than  other  fellers 
have;  and  everybody  is  entitled  to  all  they  can  make  in  this 
country! 

"  I  don't  believe  Christ  ever  taught  any  sich  doctrine  es 
that,  but  there  is  them  as  pertends  to  be  His  followers  and 
to  speak  for  Him  as  is  always  cuddlin'  to  the  rich,  a  knowin' 
too,  that  no  man  can  get  a  million  of  dollars  without  gettin' 
some  that  belongs  to  other  folks. 

"Wall,  Annelsey's  rich,  an'  Lucy'll  be  his  wife  an'  dress 
in  silks  an'  satin,  and  I  hope  she'll  be  happy.  Maybe  when 
we're  dead  an'  gone  he'll  let  her  take  care  of  Johnny,  ef  the 
boy  outlives  us.  There  ought  to  be  some  good  come  out  of 
so  much  sufferin',  an'  maybe  that'll  be  the  way  it'll  come. 

"I  wouldn't  take  a  cent  of  it  myself  ef  I  was  a-dyin'  of 
hunger,  but  ef  some  time  Johnny  should  need  their  help  it 
won't  be  a  gift  exactly,  for  the  company  that's  a  puttin'  dol- 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN*.  165 

lars  into  Annelsey's  pocket  is  a  takin'  'em  out  of  ourn,  an' 
though  they  ain't  the  same  dollars  exactly,  it  amounts  to  the 
same  thing — it's  a  robbin'  of  us  to  get  rich  themselves." 

A  few  days  after  this  Erastus  informed  Mr.  Parsons,  and, 
later  in  the  day,  the  other  members  of  the  family,  that  when 
the  hurry  of  the  season  was  over  he  intended  to  leave  them 
and  strike  out  for  himself. 

He  hoped  they  would  not  feel  that  he  was  deserting  them, 
for  he  would  never  do  that;  but  he  was  now  two  years  past 
his  majority,  and  ought  to  begin  for  himself,  and  a  number 
of  young  men  of  his  acquaintance  were  going  down  to  the 
Mussle  Slough  country  to  take  up  land,  and  he  had  decided 
to  go  with  them. 

This  decision  of  Erastus  was  the  cause  of  much  regret 
on  the  part  of  John  and  Martha  Parsons.  They  loved  him 
as  their  own  son,  and  had  hoped  and  planned  that  when  he 
should  start  for  himself  it  should  be  in  the  immediate  neigh- 
borhood of  their  own  home,  if,  indeed,  he  did  not  marry  one 
of  the  girls  and  remain  always  with  them. 

They  readily  conceded  his  right  to  go,  however,  and  as 
there  was  now  little  prospect  that  they  would  soon  be  able 
to  buy  him  a  place  they  did  not  wonder  that  he  wished  to 
leave  them  and  start  a  home  of  his  own. 

Perhaps  they  divined  something  of  his  feelings  for  Lucy; 
at  least  they  realized  that  they  could  offer  no  objections  to 
his  going  which  would  not  appear  purely  selfish. 

At  first  they  insisted  that  he  take  the  few  hundred  dollars 
remaining  in  bank,  and  a  pair  of  horses  and  a  wagon. 

The  money  he  positively  refused  to  touch,  except  a  few 
dollars  necessary  to  enable  him  to  make  the  journey  to  the 
Slough,  although  both  the  girls  joined  their  parents  in  beg- 
ging him  to  do  so,  and  declared  they  would  remain  home 
from  school,  or  even  teach  school,  rather  than  permit  him 


l66  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

who  had  done  so  much  to  aid  in  accumulating  what  they 
possessed,  to  leave  without  anything. 

Finally  it  was  agreed  that  he  should  take  a  pair  of  three- 
year-old  colts  and  one  of  the  wagons,  together  with  pro- 
visions and  money  sufficient  to  last  him  until  he  could  reach 
his  destination,  look  about  him  a  little  and  decide  just  what 
he  would  do. 

During  the  time  intervening  before  the  day  set  for  his 
departure  he  worked  even  harder  than  usual,  that  he  might 
leave  the  fall  work  in  good  shape,  and  so  relieve  Mr.  Parsons 
as  much  as  possible.  The  colts,  too,  were  harnessed  every 
day  and  made  to  do  some  light  work  that  they  might  be 
hardened  a  little  before  starting  upon  the  journey,  which, 
although  not  such  a  very  long  one,  would  yet  be  a  hard  one 
on  animals  of  their  age. 

It  was  a  very  sad  household,  that  of  John  and  Martha 
Parsons,  during  these  few  weeks  of  work  and  preparation; 
perhaps  the  saddest  that  had  ever  gathered  about  their 
board. 

When  Johnny  was  brought  home  crippled  for  life,  and 
when  it  was  thought  that  their  home  was  to  be  destroyed  by 
the  overflow,  very  dark  indeed  had  seemed  the  days,  espe- 
cially to  the  parents  ;  but  always  a  hope  that  the  home 
might  be  saved,  and  the  thought  that  even  if  worst  came  to 
worst  the  family  could  be  kept  together,  had  enabled  the 
mother  to  keep  up  a  cheerful  appearance.  And  young  hearts 
are  ever  buoyant ;  so  long  as  they  have  no  very  grave  sor- 
rows of  their  own,  the  sorrows  of  others,  even  those  they 
love  best,  cannot  prevent  the  occasional  overflow  of  youth- 
ful spirits  in  merry  laughter,  and  the  young  folks  of  the 
Parsons  household  had  always  expected  that  in  some  way 
the  clouds  that  overshadowed  them  for  a  time  would  be 
lifted,  and  that  the  warm  sun  of  love  and  prosperity  would 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  167 

be  found  to  have  a  permanent  abiding  place  in  their  firma- 
ment. 

But  now  all  knew  to  a  certainty  that  the  family  circle  was 
to  be  broken,  and  broken  somewhat  rudely. 

To  Lucy  there  constantly  came  the  thought  that  Erastus 
was  going  because  of  his  love  for  her,  although  he  made  no 
sign  and  she  could  only  surmise. 

She  realized,  too,  more  and  more,  how  dearly  she  loved 
him,  and  that  a  union  with  Mr.  Annelsey,  separating  her  as 
it  would  do  from  all  she  held  most  dear,  would  not  bring  her 
happiness.  She  saw  now  that  her  lover  had  no  influence 
which  could  be  used  to  aid  the  settlers  in  obtaining  justice 
from  the  mining  company,  and  that,  even  if  he  should  be 
generous  enough  to  give  direct  personal  assistance  to  her 
own  family,  which  somehow  she  doubted,  her  father  was  far 
too  proud  to  accept  it. 

Then  the  thought  which  had  come  to  her  during  the 
ride  home  from  the  Landing,  when  the  announcement  of  her 
engagement  had  been  made,  that  her  family  must  think  her 
selfishly  seeking  an  alliance  with  one  who  was  connected 
with  the  cause  of  their  misfortunes,  returned  to  her  again 
and  again,  producing  a  feeling  that  she  was  excluded  from 
their  innermost  thoughts  and  affections,  which  could  not  but 
affect  her  actions,  however  much  she  might  struggle  against 
it,  and  which,  re-acting  upon  the  others,  very  nearly  produced 
the  feeling  she  deplored. 

Mrs.  Parsons  felt  that  her  flock  of  younglings  were  about 
to  take  wing;  that  the  children  for  whom  she  had  labored 
and  planned  and  lived,  were  to  go  from  her,  in  all  probability 
never  to  be  reunited  again  on  earth.  Not  only  Erastus,  but 
Lucy,  and  then  Jennie,  would  soon  seek  homes  for  them- 
selves, and  that,  too,  far  away  from  their  parents,  who  were 
to  be  left  alone  and  lonely  in  their  old  age. 


l68  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

No,  not  quite  alone.  Johnny  would  never  leave  them; 
no  matter  what  else  might  happen,  the  bird  with  the  broken 
wing  would  not  leave  the  home  nest. 

But  what  if  the  nest  should  be  destroyed,  and  the  crip- 
pled bird  be  left  to  suffer  from  lack  of  food  and  shelter  ? 

She  and  John  were  getting  old  now.  She  had  never  rec- 
ognized this  as  a  fact  before,  but  now  she  felt  that  it  was 
true.  Supposing  that  the  ranch  should  be  destroyed,  and 
they  in  their  old  age,  and  with  a  helpless  child,  be  turned  out 
to  begin  again  ? 

Suppose — but  no,  she  would  not  think  of  it.  The  Lord 
would  provide.  They  had  been  through  many  trials  and 
their  sufferings  had  not  been  more  than  they  could  bear,  and 
she  must  not  permit  herself  to  be  gloomy  and  so  add  to  the 
sufferings  of  the  others. 

She  went  about  her  work  with  a  cheerful  air ;  putting 
Erastus's  clothing  in  the  best  possible  repair;  made  him  new 
shirts  and  under-clothes,  and  did  many  little  things  be- 
sides, which  she  thought  might  add  to  his  comfort  when  he 
should  be  far  from  her,  with  none  to  do  these  little  favors 
for  him. 

As  for  John  Parsons,  he  was  simply  passive. 

The  gleam  of  sunshine  which  had  come  to  him  when 
hope  revived  with  the  beginning  of  the  work  on  the  dam  had 
died  out,  and  he  saw  nothing  bright  in  the  gloom  which  en- 
veloped him. 

He  went  around  in  a  quiet  kind  of  way,  saying  little,  but 
striving  to  add  what  he  could  to  the  physical  comfort  of 
each  member  of  his  family,  but  neither  suggesting  nor  op- 
posing anything. 

And  now  the  morning  of  the  day  on  which  Erastus  was 
to  leave  them  had  arrived. 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  . 


169 


The  wagon  which  he  was  to  take  had  been  loaded  the 
day  before.  There  was  a  bed  and  bedding,  his  trunk  con- 
taining his  personal  effects,  and  a  box  into  which  Mrs.  Par- 
sons and  the  girls  had  managed,  unknown  to  him,  to  put  sev- 
eral little  articles  of  comfort  or  luxury  as  a  pleasant  surprise 
and  reminder  of  them  when  he  should  unpack  it  at  the  end  of 
his  journey. 

There  was  also  a  plow  and  a  few  other  agricultural  and 
mechanical  implements,  several  sacks  of  grain  for  the  colts, 
and  provisions  sufficient  to  last  a  little  time  after  he  should 
reach  his  destination. 

Silently  he  took  the  hand  of  the  man  who  had  been  the 
only  father  he  had  ever  known.  With  all  his  might  he  strove 
to  say  good-bye,  but  could  not  master  his  voice,  and  he 
dropped  the  hand,  kissed  each  of 
the  women  in  turn,  and  without  a 
word  sprang  upon  the  wagon  and 
drove  away  out  of  their  sight. 

As  the  family  turned  to  enter  the 
house,  old  Bose,  who  had  appeared 
not  exactly  to  understand  the  cause 
of  all  he  had  seen,  looked  inquiringly 
up  into  their  faces  and  then  away  in 
the  direction  in  which  the  wagon 
had  disappeared,  as  if  to  ask  if  this 
was  anything  more  than  the  usual 
daily  trip  to  town. 

Apparently  convinced  by  the 
sorrowful  looks  of  all,  that  some- 
thing grave  had  occurred,  he  lifted 
his  nose  in  the  air  and  gave  a  long,  low,  mournful  howl, 
and  lay  down  with  his  head  upon  his  outstretched  paws, 
and  continued  to  look  down  the  road. 


V 


170  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

He  never  returned  to  his  old  place  upon  the  kitchen 
porch,  but  always,  until  he  died,  was  to  be  found  near 
the  same  spot  in  the  front  yard,  with  his  head  turned  in  one 
direction,  and  if  not  sleeping,  with  his  old  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  point  in  the  road  where  a  wagon  coming  over  the  hill 
would  first  be  visible.  Occasionally  if  hungry,  he  would  go 
to  the  kitchen  for  food,  but  usually  it  was  carried  to  him,  and 
one  morning  when  they  went  to  feed  him,  they  found  him 
dead,  his  head  upon  his  outstretched  paws,  as  if  still  looking 
down  the  road. 


OR,  JUST  A  c AMPIN'.  171 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

DESOLATION. 

Erastus  was  six  days  in  making  the  journey  to  Mussle 
Slough,  and  a  desolate  looking  country  he  found  it. 

For  miles  and  miles,  at  this  season  of  the  year,  not  a 
green  thing  appeared  upon  which  to  fasten  the  smallest 
hope  of  ever  changing  the  waste  into  fertile  fields  of  grass 
and  grain. 

The  settlers  already  there  seemed  upon  the  verge  of 
starvation.  But  three  or  four  inches  of  rain  fell  during  the 
entire  year,  and  for  months  at  a  time  the  soil  was  unmoist- 
ened  even  by  dew.  Those  who  possessed  a  little  money 
when  they  came,  had  expended  it  in  futile  efforts  to  pro- 
duce a  crop,  and  all  were  now  dependent  for  the  means  of 
subsistence  upon  small  patches  of  ground  near  the  lake,  dis- 
tant in  many  instances  from  four  to  seven  miles  from  their 
claims. 

Even  these  patches  had  to  be  constantly  guarded  from 
droves  of  ravenous  and  half  wild  cattle  belonging  to  the 
herdsmen  who  gave  them  little  attention,  and  who  were  illy 
disposed  toward  any  attempts  at  inclosing  or  cultivating  the 
land  which,  although  seemingly  little  better  than  a  desert,  at 
certain  periods  of  the  year  produced  a  thin  growth  of  wild 
alfalfa  upon  which  their  stock  fed,  being  in  the  main  driven 
to  better  pastures  as  the  dry  season  advanced. 

These  patches  of  ground  were  made  fertile  by  their 
nearness  to  Lake  Tulare,  and  by  being  but  little  above  the 
level  of  its  waters. 


172  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

Veritable  oases  in  the  desert  these  spots  seemed,  and 
upon  them  the  settlers  raised  the  few  bushels  of  corn  and 
beans  and  vegetables  which  formed  their  sole  means  of  sub- 
sistence while  prosecuting  the  work  of  redeeming  their 
claims  by  the  herculean  task  of  digging  an  irrigating  ditch 
upwards  of  twenty  miles  long,  by  means  of  which  they  were 
to  obtain  water  from  the  river  above  them,  and  convert  the 
desert  into  a  garden. 

But  if  these  oases  furnished  garden  spots  for  the  settlers 
they  were  also  desired  by  the  herdsmen,  for  a  few  of  whose 
cattle  they  supplied  pasturage  the  year  round,  and  being 
without  the  means  of  fencing  them  in,  the  protection  of 
their  little  crops  meant  a  constant  watch  upon  the  cattle, 
and  one  which  consumed  the  entire  time  of  some  member 
of  each  family. 

Owing  to  the  lack  of  feed,  but  few  were  able  to  keep 
teams,  and  that  they  continued  the  unequal  contest  for  their 
homes  can  only  be  understood  when  it  is  known  that  of  all 
the  rich  farming  lands  of  the  State,  not  an  acre  remained  for 
pre-emption  or  purchase  except  at  second-hand,  and  as  a 
rule,  in  large  bodies,  being  held  by  corporations  or  indi- 
viduals who  claimed  it  under  pretended  grants  from  Spain  or 
Mexico,  given  before  California  was  ceded  to  the  United 
States,  or  by  act  of  Congress  since  that  time.  So  that  this 
barren,  sandy  plain  offered  the  only  hope  for  poor  men  in 
California  of  obtaining  a  portion  of  the  inheritance  of  the 
race. 

Besides,  they  had  confidence  that,  once  irrigated,  it 
would  produce  abundantly,  and  well  repay  all  their  labors 
by  future  yields  of  fruit  and  grain. 

All  efforts  to  induce  men  with  capital  to  invest  in  the  en- 
terprise of  cutting  the  ditch,  and  depending  upon  the  sale 
of  water  privileges  for  reimbursements,  had  failed, —  the 


OR,  JUST    A   C AMPIN  .  173 

idea  that  any  amount  of  water  could  render  the  sand  of 
the  plains  fertile  being  scouted  as  visionary,  the  land  being 
judged  not  worth  paying  taxes  upon, —  and  the  settlers  had 
undertaken  the  task  themselves,  all  unaided,  and  had  been 
two  years  at  work  on  the  main  ditch  when  Erastus  Hem- 
mingway  arrived  in  the  community. 

So  dreary  and  forbidding  was  the  outlook  that  he  felt 
tempted  to  leave  again  immediately,  but  knowing  that  no 
land  remained  open  for  pre-emption  elsewhere  in  the  State, 
at  last  decided  to  stay  and  cast  his  lot  with  those  who  were 
so  manfully  struggling  to  overcome  the  difficulties  by  which 
they  were  surrounded. 

Guided  in  part  by  the  advice  of  such  acquaintances  as 
he  had  made  since  his  arrival,  he  located  a  claim  of  one 
hundred  and  sixty  acres,  and  made  arrangements  to  live 
for  a  time  in  the  family  of  a  settler  who  was  on  a  claim 
adjoining  his  own,  agreeing  to  pay  a  small  sum  weekly  for 
such  food  and  accommodations  as  they  could  offer. 

Of  the  half  dozen  men  who  accompanied  Erastus  to  the 
Slough,  not  one  had  the  hardihood  to  remain.  All  were  too 
much  discouraged  by  the  outlook,  and  either  returned  to  the 
old  neighborhood  or  sought  places  for  rent  in  other  portions 
of  the  country. 

When  he  had  staked  out  his  claim,  Erastus  hitched  up 
and  drove  across  the  country  until  he  found  pasturage,  and 
a  rancher  who  was  willing  to  let  the  colts  run  with  his  own 
stock  until  such  time  as  the  light  rains,  which  might  be  ex- 
pected to  fall  a  few  months  later,  should  revive  the  seem- 
ingly dead  grass  of  the  Mussle  Slough  country.  He  then 
returned  to  the  Slough  on  foot,  and  went  to  work  with  his 
fellow  settlers  upon  the  ditch,  which  was  their  only  hope. 

For  weeks  and  months  he  worked  in  company  with  these 
men,  many  of  whom  had  worked  through  all  the  weeks  and 


174  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

months  of  the  two  previous  years;  ill-fed — often  without 
bread  of  any  kind  for  long  periods  at  a  time,  sleeping  upon 
the  ground  almost  as  frequently  as  in  a  bed,  working  at  night 
as  well  as  by  day,  their  families  camping  in  wretched  little 
huts  at  the  lake  watching  the  patches  of  vegetables  and 
corn  upon  which  their  very  existence  depended. 

When  the  rain  came  and  vegetation  started  up,  the  colts 
were  brought  down  from  their  pasture  and  made  to  do  a 
portion  of  labor  on  the  ditch;  their  young  master  taking  the 
best  care  of  them  possible  under  the  circumstances. 

He  had  written  home  soon  after  positively  deciding  to 
locate  at  the  Slough,  but  had  refrained  from  giving  a  very 
accurate  description  of  the  country  or  of  his  prospects,  not 
wishing  to  excite  any  anxiety  in  the  minds  of  his  friends 
regarding  his  welfare.  In  reply  he  had  received  letters  from 
the  family  telling  him  of  affairs  in  the  old  neighborhood. 
Then  for  some  weeks  he  was  silent,  not  feeling  that  he  had 
anything  cheerful  to  communicate,  and  dreading,  yet  long- 
ing, to  hear  further  regarding  the  engagement  between  Lucy 
and  Mr.  Annelsey. 

Meantime  the  dam  which  was  to  save  the  Parsons  settle- 
ment from  the  overflow  had  been  completed,  but  scarcely  was 
the  work  accomplished  before  it  became  evident  that  it  would 
not  long  stay  the  mass  of  slickings  which  was  coming  down 
in  such  immense  quantities  from  the  mines  above  as  to  have 
filled  the  gulch  itself  a  hundred  feet  deep  for  ten  miles  below 
Gravel  Hill,  and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  large  quantities  of 
it  were  turned  aside  into  the  new  channel  cut  for  it  above  the 
dam,  it  was  slowly  but  surely  filling  the  whole  gorge  and 
would  soon  rise  above  that  structure,  even  if  it  did  not  sweep 
it  away. 

Another  meeting  of  the  settlers  was  called,  at  which  it 
was  resolved  to  apply  to  the  courts  for  a  perpetual  injunction 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN*.  175 

restraining  the  companies  from  emptying  their  slickings  into 
the  gorge. 

The  services  of  a  prominent  attorney  of  San  Francisco 
were  secured  and  application  for  the  injunction  made. 

But  there  were  delays. 

The  attorneys  for  the  mining  companies  asked  for  time  in 
which  to  produce  evidence  to  show  why  the  injunction  should 
not  issue,  and  although  the  settlers  pleaded  the  absolute  ne- 
cessity to  them  of  immediate  action,  the  time  asked  was  given 
and  even  twice  extended. 

Then  some  technicality  in  the  law  or  the  papers  in  the 
case  was  discovered,  and  still  further  time  consumed. 

By  this  time  the  fall  rains  had  commenced,  and  a  few 
days  later  the  gorge  above  the  dam  was  full,  not  of  water 
alone,  but  of  earth  and  stones,  which,  pressing  against  that 
hastily  built  structure,  swept  it  away  and  went  pouring  over 
the  valley  and  farm  lands  below. 

The  bed  of  the  creek  was  at  once  filled  with  sand  and 
gravel.  Brush  and  timbers  from  the  broken  dam,  together 
with  whole  trees  washed  down  by  the  operations  at  the  mines, 
were  swept  along  with  the  current  and  finding  lodgment, 
formed  a  barrier  which  in  turn  banked  up  the  water  and 
earth  behind  it,  until  over  whole  farms  the  worthless  soil 
from  the  mountains  rose  to  a  depth  of  ten  and  twelve  feet, 
burying  orchards  and  vineyards,  and  even  some  small  build- 
ings beneath  the  accumulated  mass  * 

*  "At  Rose's  Bar,  where  I  am  told  Judge  Field  at  one  time  practiced  law,  and 
where  there  was  once  a  considerable  town,  its  site  is  now  sixty  feet  under  the  mining 
tailings."  *****  "  In  the  Gold  Run  case  the  defendant  proved  by  a  Mr. 
Fairchild  that  the  breaking  of  a  dam  at  the  head  of  Pilot  Creek,  in  El  Dorado  County, 
one  of  the  tributaries  of  the  South  Fork,  washed  out  of  Pilot  Creek  in  a  jiffy,  and  into 
the  south  fork  of  the  American  River,  2,639,000  yards  of  earth  and  rock,  including  the 
great  trees  which  the  wave  of  water  tore  up  by  the  roots  in  its  downward  course." 
*  *  *  *  ti  -phe  ex(;ent  to  which  the  de"bris  comes  down  is  illustrated  by  the  fact 


176  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

Such  was  the  fate  of  the  Parsons  ranch. 

Powerless  to  stay  its  course,  John  and  Martha  Parsons 
saw  the  flood  of  death  rise  about  them.  Saw  first  their 
lower  fields  flooded  and  made  valueless.  Then  saw  the  flood 
rise  about  the  grape-vines  until  they  were  buried  from  sight, 
and  the  mass  of  earth  and  water,  rising  more  slowly  now, 
reached  the  orchard  and  the  higher  ground  upon  which  stood 
the  cottage  with  its  outlying  farm  buildings. 

Day  by  day  they  watched  the  horrible  mass  close  in  about 
them. 

Now  the  topmost  limbs  of  the  peach  trees  alone  appeared 
in  sight,  and  then  disappeared  entirely. 

At  night  the  garden  fence  had  been  reached;  in  the  morn- 
ing it  was  a  foot  deep  within  the  enclosure,  and  was  rapidly 
approaching  the  door  yard  from  three  sides. 

Now  it  reaches  the  front  gate,  creeps  through  the  latticed 
fence  and  up  the  gravel  walk.  One  by  one  the  flower-beds 
disappear,  swallowed  up  by  the  horrible  anaconda  that  is 
winding  its  folds  about  the  doomed  cottage,  whose  inmates 
watch  its  approach  in  helpless  agony,  knowing  that  no  human 
power  can  prevent  the  total  destruction  of  all  that  years  of 
toil  and  economy  has  enabled  them  to  accumulate. 

What  is  to  be  done  ? 

Already  a  dozen  of  the  neighbors  have  been  driven  from 
their  houses  and  are  domiciled  in  those  more  remote  from 
the  scene  of  the  overflow,  or  are  camping  out  upon  the  hills 
overlooking  their  desolate  homes. 

A  few  more  days  and  the  ocean  of  mud  and  water  will 
enter  their  own  cottage;  where  shall  they  seek  for  refuge? 

that  the  Parks  Dam  across  the  Yuba,  12,460  feet  long  and  over  six  feet  in  height,  was 
filled  full  during  three  days  and  nights  of  the  freshet  of  1881." 

Address  of  Geo.  Cadivalader  in  the  case  of  Edwards  W'oodruff  vs.  the  North 
Bloomfield  Gravel  Mining  Ca.,  et  al.,  tried  in  the  Circuit  Court  of  the  United 
States,  District  of  California,  Dec,  22,  1882. 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  177 

There  is  no  one  in  the  cottage  now  but  John  and  Martha 
Parsons  and  the  crippled  boy;  the  young  girl  who  was  with 
them  for  a  time  having  returned  to  her  own  home,  and  Jen- 
nie and  Lucy  being  still  in  San  Francisco. 

Evidently  the  girls  could  not  long  remain  at  school  now, 
for  their  parents  had  no  longer  any  means  of  paying  their 
expenses.  Every  dollar  of  the  income  of  the  past  year  had 
been  expended  in  paying  for  work  upon  the  dam  and  in  the 
effort  to  obtain  the  injunction,  and  but  fifty  dollars  remained 
in  bank  of  that  once  laid  aside  to  aid  Erastus,  now  upon  his 
own  claim  at  the  Slough. 

"  The  girls  must  come  home,"  Mrs.  Parsons  had  said 
when  word  came  that  the  dam  had  broken  and  all  was  lost. 

"  We  must  send  for  them,  father.  If  we  are  to  lose 
everything  we  cannot  pay  their  expenses  in  the  city  any 
longer,  and  if  you  will  take  it  to  the  office  I  will  write  a  letter 
at  once,  telling  them  to  come  by  the  first  boat." 

But  her  husband  pointed  to  the  lake  of  mud  and  water, 
already  six  or  eight  feet  deep,  over  the  road  across  the  creek 
bottom. 

"  We  can't  git  to  the  Landing,"  he  said.  "A  horse  would 
mire  in  that  stuff  'fore  he  got  half  way  to  the  bridge." 

"  Then  we  must  go  to  the  landing  above.  Can't  you  get 
some  of  the  neighbors  to  go  for  you  ?  Mr.  Ritchie's  Henry 
will  go,  I  think.  You  know  they  are  not  in  as  much  danger 
yet  as  we  are." 

"I  kin  git  some  one  to  go  I  s'pect,  Marty,"  replied  her 
husband;  "I  kin  git  some  one  to  go,  I  reckon,  but  there  ain't 
no  home  fer  the  girls  to  come  to;  er  ther  won't  be  by  the 
time  they  'ud  git  the  letter  and  git  here." 

"Oh,  John!  John!  is  it  possible  that  we  have  lost  every- 
thing!" sobbed  Mrs.  Parsons,  dropping  into  a  chair  and 
burying  her  face  in  her  apron. 


178  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

John  Parsons  made  no  reply,  and  after  a  few  moments 
his  wife  checked  her  sobs  and  raising  her  head  asked: 

"  Is  there  no  way  ?  Cannot  the  dam  be  rebuilt  and  made 
strong  enough  and  high  enough  to  stop  this  awful  destruc- 
tion of  the  homes  of  honest  people  ?" 

"  I  reckon  we've  did  everything  that  kin  be  done,"  he 
returned,  "except  it  is  to  push  for  the  injunction  on  the  com- 
panies, and  that  ain't  any  use  now  that  the  damage  is  done; 
and  as  fer  the  dam,  why  the  hull  gulch  is  chock  full  o'  slick- 
ens  and  stuff,  and  there  ain't  no  possible  chance  of  doin' 
anything. 

"  No,  wife,"  he  added  in  a  hopeless  tone  of  voice,  "there 
can't  nothin'  be  done.  We're  driv  out  agin  by  them  as  cares 
nothin'  for  others,  or  who  think  that  nothin'  is  wrong  that 
the  law  can't  punish  'em  for,*  and  we  have  got  to  work  hard 
in  our  old  age  and  maybe  die  in  a  poor-house  at  the  end. 
If  it  wasn't  for  you  and  Johnny  I  should  wish  I  were  dead 
a'ready,  and  I  don't  see  as  there  is  any  use  in  my  livin'  any 
longer  anyway,  for  I  can't  seem  to  pertect  them  as  is 
dependent  on  me,  though  the  Lord  knows  I've  tried  to 
do  it." 

Mrs.  Parsons  arose  and  came  and  put  her  arms  around 
his  neck  and  laid  her  head  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  You  have  done  all  you  could,  John,  and  all  anybody 
could  have  done,"  she  said,  "and  you  must  not  feel  so,  dear. 
It  is  better  for  us  a  thousand  times  to  lose  the  place  and 
everything  on  it  than  to  lose  you."  And  then  seeing  the 

*  It  may  seem  incredible  that  mining  corporations  should  be  allowed  to  thus  destroy 
homes  that  had  been  made  long  before  they  took  up  their  claims  and  began  their  work. 
But  until  within  the  last  year  (1883)  the  courts  afforded  no  relief.  A  recent  decision 
has  granted  a  perpetual  injunction  against  the  mining  companies,  and  unless  the  influ- 
ence of  the  heavy  capitalists  who  are  interested  can  procure  a  reversal  of  the  decision 
it  is  now  hoped  that  a  stop  has  been  put  to  such  scenes  as  that  described  in  this  chap- 
ter. But  only  the  future  can  determine  the  influence  that  money  can  exert  upon  the 
courts.  We  shall  sCe. 


OR,  JUST    A    C AMPIN  .  179 

tears  start  in  his  eyes  she  added:  "Don't  cry,  dear.  We 
have  each  other  yet,  and  the  children,  and  will  manage  some 
way.  The  girls  will  probably  marry  soon,  so  that  they  will 
not  suffer  greatly  by  the  loss  of  the  ranch,  and  we  shall  then 
have  only  ourselves  and  Johnny  to  provide  for,  and  if  we 
live  to  be  too  old  to  work  I  am  sure  the  children  will  be  glad 
to  have  us  live  with  them." 

"  Maybe,  maybe,"  returned  her  husband.  "  I  hope  so, 
for  your  sake  and  Johnny's,  but  I  want  to  die  before  I  be- 
come a  burden  on  any  one.  Ef  Lucy  and  Erastus,  now,  had 
a'  married  and  could  have  had  the  place  all  right,  I  shouldn't 
ever  have  thought  of  bein'  a  burden  on  them,  'cause  they're 
both  our  own  children  like;  but  now  we  have  no  place  for 
ourselves,  let  alone  givin'  it  to  them,  and  Lucy  has  took  a 
notion  to  marry  one  of  the  chaps  as  is  responsible  fer  our 
ruin,  and  I'm  thinkin'  he  wouldn't  be  overly  proud  of  the 
old  folks  ef  they  was  to  ask  for  a  place  by  his  fireside  in  the 
big  house  they's  agoin'  to  hev  in  New  York.  At  any  rate 
I'll  never  ask  it.  I'd  rather  starve. 

"  The  young  folks  had  best  git  married,  though,  ef  they're 
goin'  to;  both  of  'em.  I've  no  fear  fer  Jennie  an'  Ensign. 
They'll  git  on  all  right,  as  far  as  they  let  folks  git  on  that 
works  for  a  livin',  and  if  Lucy  loves  Mr.  Annelsey  I  s'pose 
that's  all  right  too,  and  she  had  better  write  fer  him  to  come 
and  get  her  at  once  ef  he  don't  want  her  to  get  tanned  up 
with  campin'  out  in  the  foot-hills." 

Mrs.  Parsons  thought  the  whole  situation  over  and  over, 
again  and  again. 

All  night  she  lay  awake  thinking  of  their  changed  cir- 
cumstances and  of  her  husband's  words,  and  in  the  morning 
she  did  substantially  what  he  had  suggested — she  wrote  her 
daughters,  telling  them  the  ranch  was  flooded  and  destroyed, 
that  the  cottage  itself  would  be  untenable  before  many  days, 


l8o  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

but  forbidding  them  to  return  home  until  they  heard  further 
from  their  parents. 

"  Your  father  and  I  do  not  yet  know  what  we  shall  do," 
she  wrote.  "  There  seems  no  place  for  us  to  go  to.  Some 
of  the  neighbors,  whose  houses. are  on  higher  ground  than 
ours,  have  offered  to  let  us  stay  with  them  until  we  can  find 
a  place  to  rent,  but  we  cannot  long  be  a  tax  on  the  hospital- 
ity of  those  who  have  themselves  lost  everything  except  the 
shelter  over  their  heads,  and  who  must,  like  us,  soon  seek 
other  homes. 

"  We  are  talking  of  going  down  into  the  great  valley  and 
renting  a  place  of  some  of  the  big  landlords,  but  it  is  very 
hard  to  think  of  working  all  the  rest  of  our  lives  without 
hope  of  ever  having  a  place  of  our  own  again,  and  if  we  can 
find  a  little  place  anywhere  that  is  for  sale,  if  it  is  only  a  few 
acres  with  nothing  but  a  shanty  on  it,  we  had  both  rather 
buy  it  than  to  rent,  even  if  we  go  in  debt  for  it;  but  we  do 
not  know  of  any  such  that  is  safe  from  the  overflow  of  these 
terrible  mines. 

"You  must  not  worry  about  it  too  much,  dears;  and  you 
must  not  come  home  until  you  hear  from  us  again,  which  will 
not  be  long,  for  we  must  do  something,  and  that  quickly. 

"You  could  not  help  much  if  you  were  here  until  we  know 
what  we  are  to  do,  and  would  probably  be  more  expense 
here  than  there,  and  we  will  write  you  again  just  as  soon  as 
we  determine  where  we  shall  go." 

Then  she  added  in  a  postscript: 

"  You  know  how  much  your  father  and  I  love  you,  and  how 
anxious  we  are  to  have  you  always  with  us;  but  this  we  know 
cannot  be,  and  if  the  men  whom  you  are  to  marry  urge  you 
to  a  speedy  union  you  have  our  consent,  and  it  may  be 
best  so." 

This  letter  John  Parsons  mailed  at  Phippsburg,  a  little 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  181 

town  on  the  river  ten  miles  above  the  Landing  where  they 
usually  did  their  trading. 

When  Johnny  saw  his  father  preparing  to  start  he  began 
to  cry  pitedusly,  and  begged  him  not  to  leave  them  to  be 
swallowed  up  by  the  terrible  flood. 

The  poor  child  was  not  only  nervous,  but  actually  fright- 
ened. He  had  sat  propped  up  in  his  little  wheeled  cot  at  the 
low  window  and  watched  the  slowly  rising  flood  until  it  had 
grown  to  seem  a  thing  of  life,  a  frightful  monster,  such  as  he 
had  read  about  in  fairy  stories,  only  a  thousand  times  more 
horrible,  ready  to  swallow  them  all  alive;  and  his  pale  face 
grew  paler  still,  and  his  eyes,  large  with  suffering,  grew  larger 
yet  with  fear,  and  he  would  not  consent  that  either  parent 
should  remain  long  out  of  the  room,  and  at  night  went  to 
sleep  holding  to  his  father's  hand  only  to  awaken  when  all 
was  still  with  screams  of  fright  at  the  things  which  he  saw 
in  his  dreams. 

Then  John  Parsons  would  arise  and  sit  by  his  side  and 
talk  to  him,  and  tell  him  stories,  and  soothe  him  until  his  sobs 
ceased  and  gradually  he  dropped  off  to  sleep  again,  only  to 
see  once  more  the  horrid  shapes  that  peopled  his  sleeping 
fancy,  and  awake  in  an  agony  of  fear  and  trembling. 

And  now  he  begged  and  cried  until  his  parents  feared  he 
would  go  into  convulsions  at  his  father's  leaving,  but  there 
seemed  no  other  way,  for  they  knew  that  the  neighbors  were 
either  busy  trying  to  save  something  from  the  general  wreck, 
or  absent  looking  for  some  place  to  move  to.  People  who 
are  so  foolish  as  to  build  their  houses  where  wealthy  corpo- 
rations may  wish  to  empty  the  garbage  from  their  back  yards 
cannot  humor  the  fancies  of  their  crippled  children.  They 
are  like  the  birds  that  build  their  nests  upon  the  ground 
where  the  farmer  desires  to  sow  his  grain — whose  nests  are 
turned  under  by  the  plowshare  with  never  a  thought  of  the 


1 82  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

loss  to  the  little  bunch  of  brown  feathers  that  cries  so  pite- 
ously  and  flutters  about  the  spot  where  its  little  ones  lie  buried 
beneath  the  sod. 

It  was  early  in  the  morning  when  John  Parsons  started 
with  the  letter.  He  knew  that  he  would  be  forced  to  follow 
a  somewhat  devious  route  in  order  to  avoid  the  overflowed 
district,  but  he  was  on  horseback  and  expected  to  make  the 
canter  of  ten  miles  and  back  by  noon  at  farthest,  and  so  told 
his  wife  and  Johnny. 

But  noon  came  and  no  father.  Then  one  o'clock,  and 
still  he  had  not  come. 

Mrs.  Parsons  kept  the  dinner  warm  and  waited.  She  had 
spent  the  morning  in  packing,  as  best  she  could,  their  house- 
hold goods  in  shape  for  moving,  at  the  same  time  amusing 
Johnny  with  talks  of  the  new  place  to  which  they  would  go. 

She  did  not  know  where  it  would  be,  yet  tried,  for  the 
lad's  sake,  to  picture  it  as  pleasant  as  possible,  and  so  half 
made  herself  believe  that  they  might  not  fail  in  getting  an- 
other home  and  being  happy  once  more,  and  now  while  she 
waited  she  continued  the  preparations  for  moving;  but  as  the 
hours  passed  and  her  husband  was  still  absent,  she  became 
uneasy  and  fancied  all  kinds  of  evils  that  might  have  befallen 
him. 

Had  he  attempted  to  cross  some  place  in  the  road  that 
was  covered  by  the  overflow,  and  miring  down  been  unable 
to  extricate  himself  ? 

The  thought  was  horrible,  and  her  brain  reeled  beneath  it. 

Then  she  told  herself  that  it  could  not  be;  that  instead 
he  had  been  forced  to  go  further  around  than  he  had  antici- 
pated, and  so  more  time  was  consumed. 

Then  again,  she  feared  that  his  horse  had  taken  fright 
and  thrown  him,  and  she  pictured  him  lying  by  the  roadside 
dead,  or  with  broken  limbs,  calling  in  vain  for  help,  or  car- 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  183 

ried  to  a  friendly  shanty  as  he  had  carried  Johnny  when  the 
accident  which  made  him  a  cripple  occurred. 

"  They  say  it  never  rains  but  it  pours,"  she  said  to  her- 
self. "  Can  it  be  possible  that  to  all  our  other  troubles  is  to 
be  added  an  injury  to  John  ?" 

She  could  not  bear  to  think  of  it,  and  put  the  thought 
from  her,  and  tried  to  keep  from  dwelling  on  it  by  talking  to 
Johnny  as  he  lay  in  his  cot  watching  her  pack  the  boxes  and 
trunks  with  clothing  and  the  various  knick-knacks  about  the 
house. 

Then  a  more  hopeful  thought  came. 

"  Maybe  father  had  heard  of  a  place  that  he  can  get,  and 
has  gone  to  look  at  it,"  she  said  to  Johnny,  and  the  thought 
gave  her  fresh  courage.  But  as  the  day  passed  and  night 
settled  down  upon  the  scene  and  still  he  did  not  come,  hope 
turned  to  fear  and  she  grew  sick  at  heart. 

She  attended  to  the  out-door  chores  when  she  saw  it 
getting  late;  fed  the  pigs  and  the  chickens  and  milked  the 
cows,  and  then  went  in  the  gathering  darkness  and  noted 
the  rise  in  the  slow  creeping  flood,  and  estimated  that  in  two 
days  more  it  would  enter  the  cottage. 

Then  she  returned  to  the  house,  lighted  a  lamp,  and  sat 
down  by  the  cot  of  her  crippled  child,  too  utterly  exhausted 
and  broken  in  spirit  to  talk. 

The  boy  seemed  to  understand,  for  he  said  nothing;  did 
not  cry  nor  moan,  but  lay  with  his  large  eyes  fixed  upon  his 
mother's  face  with  a  look  of  wondering,  helpless  resignation, 
as  if  he  saw  the  approach  of  the  horrid  monster  of  his 
dreams,  but  felt  that  now  no  cries  for  help  could  avail  any- 
thing, until,  unable  longer  to  control  herself,  Martha  Par- 
sons sank  upon  her  knees  and  buried  her  face  in  her  hand- 
kerchief and  sobbed  aloud: 

"  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?  " 


'MY   COD,    MY   GOD,    WHY   HAST  THOU   FORSAKEN   ME?" 
184 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  185 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

DRIVEN    TO    THE    MOUNTAINS. 

For  a  half  hour  Martha  Parsons  remained  kneeling  by 
the  side  of  her  crippled  child. 

When  she  arose  she  was  calm  again,  but  neither  the  boy 
nor  herself  spoke,  and  finally  sleep  came  and  closed  the 
lad's  eyelids,  and  he  lay  quietly  resting  while  his  mother  sat 
by  his  side  as  silent  and  motionless  as  he. 

Her  thoughts  had  gone  back  to  the  days  of  her  child- 
hood, and  one  by  one  she  recalled  all  the  incidents  of  her 
past  life.  She  remembered  the  old  church  where  she  had 
been  christened  and  near  where  she  was  born.  In  imagina- 
tion she  sat  again  in  the  straight- backed  pew  in  company 
with  the  homely,  old-fashioned  congregation,  and  listened  to 
the  preaching  of  the  venerable,  gray-haired  minister  whose 
words  she  had  been  taught  were  those  of  one  commissioned 
to  speak  for  God  and  Christ. 

Again  she  heard  the  sermon  in  which  all  men  were  com- 
manded to  accept  their  lot,  whatever  it  might  be,  as  from  the 
hand  of  the  Most  High,  who  gave  to  each  of  His  creatures  as 
to  Him  seemed  best,  of  the  goods  of  this  world;  heard, 
mingled  with  much  of  sympathy  for  the  impoverished  and 
the  outcast  and  the  sinful,  the  poor  bidden  to  be  content 
with  the  condition  in  life  to  which  it  had  pleased  God  in  His 
wisdom  to  call  them;  and  was  dumbly  conscious  of  feeling 
surprised  at  herself,  and,  maybe,  a  trifle  frightened  at  daring 
to  wonder  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  if  God  ever  authorized 
anybody  to  say  such  things  in  His  name;  if,  indeed,  it  were 


1 86  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

not  blasphemy  to  tell  the  poor,  who  were  made  poor  by  being 
robbed,  and  the  rich,  who  were  made  rich  by  the  robbery, 
that  such  was  God's  will,  and  bidding  them  to  be  content  in 
the  condition  in  which  they  were  thus  placed. 

She  recalled  the  talks  which  she  and  John  had  during 
the  days  of  their  courtship  and  after  their  marriage.  What 
plans  they  had  laid  ;  how  hopeful  they  had  been  of  the 
future;  how  prosperous  they  had  meant  to  be;  and  how 
much  pleasure  they  had  taken  in  thinking  of  the  good  they 
would  do,  and  of  the  quiet  old  age  they  were  to  spend  to- 
gether after  the  hurry  of  life  was  over  and  their  children 
settled  comfortably  near  them,  receiving  and  entitled  to  the 
respect  and  esteem  of  their  neighbors. 

They  had  worked  hard;  they  had  been  honest;  they  had 
reared  their  children  to  be  worthy  members  cf  society;  they 
had  done  all  they  knew  how  to  do  to  make  the  world  better 
for  their  having  lived  in  it;  and  now,  their  home  .lost,  their 
children  scattered,  she  sat  by  the  bedside  of  her  crippled 
child  at  midnight,  waiting  for  the  return  of  her  husband,  with 
a  great  fear  at  her  heart  that  he,  too,  had  been  swallowed  up 
by  the  terrible  flood. 

The  moan  which  involuntarily  escaped  her  lips  as  her 
mind  returned  to  the  present,  awoke  Johnny;  but  seeing  his 
mother  sitting  by  his  side  he  did  not  cry  or  speak,  but  lay 
quietly  gazing  into  her  face  for  a  time  and  then  his  quick 
hearing  caught  a  sound  which  had  escaped  the  duller  ear  of 
his  mother,  and  a  look,  half  of  inquiry,  half  of  fear,  passed 
over  his  face,  but  still  he  did  not  speak. 

Again  the  sound,  and  now  his  mother  hears  it  too — the 
neighing  of  a  horse  upon  the  winding  bluff  road  back  of  the 
house;  then  an  answering  neigh  from  the  hill  pasture,  and 
both  know  that  the  husband  and  father  has  returned. 

Hurrying  to  the  door,  Mrs.  Parsons  heard  the  pasture 


"  OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN*.  187 

bars  let  down;  heard  the  short  whinny  of  recognition  and 
welcome  which  the  horses  exchanged  as  the  home-comer 
entered  the  field,  then  heard  the  barn  door  open  as  the  rider 
went  to  hang  up  his  saddle;  then  the  footsteps  turned 
towards  the  house,  and  a  moment  later  John  Parsons,  weary 
and  covered  with  mud,  but  sound  of  limb,  entered,  and  bend- 
ing down  kissed  wife  and  child. 

"  I  s'pose  you  an'  Johnny  hev  been  worried  most  to  death 
about  me,  Marty,"  he  said,  "but  I  couldn't  very  well  help  it; 
leastwise  I  thought  it  best  to  do  as  I  done." 

"  Yes,  dear,  we  have  been  fearful  that  something  had  hap- 
pened you.  Did  you  meet  with  an  accident,  or  what  was  the 
matter?  I  know  you  must  be  tired  and  hungry,  whatever  it 
was,  and  I'll  have  a  cup  of  tea  for  you  just  as  soon  as  the 
kettle  boils  again.  It  won't  take  but  a  moment;  it  was  boil- 
ing only  a  little  bit  ago." 

"Wall,  you  see  when  I  got  to  town  I  concluded  to  ask 
around  an'  see  if  I  could  hear  of  a  place  for  rent  or  to  sell 
on  time,  an'  after  inquirin'  a  spell  I  heard  of  a  claim,  mostly 
wo'thless,  but  with  enough  good  land  to  make  a  livin'  on, 
that  was  for  sale  or  trade,  fifteen  miles  further  back  in  the 
mountains;  an'  as,  ef  I  come  home  first  I'd  hev  to  go  right 
back  agin  tj-mourow,  if  I  took  a  look  at  the  place  at  all,  I 
concluded  to  go  right  on  an'  see  it,  hopin'  to  get  home,  though, 
afore  it  was  so  late.  But  when  I  got  back  to  town  it  was 
almost  dark  already,  an'  neither  me  nor  the  horse  had  et  a 
bite  since  mornin',  an'  I  was  jest  obleeged  to  stop  an'  let  the 
animal  rest  a  couple  of  hours.  That  gave  me  a  dark  ride 
home,  an'  the  roads  is  purty  bad  over  the  hills  since  the  rains 
come.  What  time  o'  night  is  it  ?  Nigh  on  to  midnight,  I 
reckon." 

"The  clock  struck  twelve  some  time  since,"  replied  Mrs. 
Parsons.  "But  what  about  the  place?  Is  there  any  house 


1 88  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

on  it,  or  an  orchard,  or  anything  ?    And  what  does  the  man 
ask  for  it  ?  " 

"  There's  a  bit  of  a  shanty  on  it,"  returned  her  husband, 
"  an*  a  few  scatterin*  grape  vines,  an'  a  dozen  or  two  peach 
and  pear  trees.  The  place  is  well  up  on  the  mountain  an'  is 
off  of  the  main  road,  an'  sort  o'  lonesome  like;  leastwise,  I'm 
afeared  'twould  seem  so  to  you  an'  the  lad.  But  there's  a 
chance  to  make  a  livin'  there  even  if  it  ain't  a  very  good  one, 
an'  I  s'pect  maybe  grapes  will  do  purty  well  on  part  o'  the 
claim.  It's  mighty  rough  an'  broken,  though,  an'  won't  be  so 
pleasant  cultivatin'  as  this  place  used  to  be. 

"  There  ain't  no  bottom  land  onto  it,  ner  within  ten  miles 
of  it  fer  that  matter.  An'  there  ain't  many  neighbors,  an* 
such  as  there  is,  is  poor  folks,  that  couldn't  git  claims  no- 
wher's  else.  I  talked  with  one  of  'em,  an'  he  said  he  was 
satisfied  they  could  raise  as  good  fruit  of  most  kinds  as  grew 
anywhere  in  the  state;  an'  anywa)^  there  ain't  any  danger  of 
their  floodin'  it  from  any  mines;  it's  too  far  up  on  the  moun- 
tains fer  that,  an'  maybe  the  best  thing  we  kin  do  is  to  take 
it,  'specially  as  the  owner,  who  lives  in  town,  is  willin'  to  take 
a  pair  of  horses  an'  purty  near  anything  else  we  have  to  turn 
out  to  him,  I  guess." 

"  Then  we  had  better  take  it,"  replied  his  wife.  "  I  had 
rather  have  a  place  of  our  own,  however  poor,  than  to  be  de- 
pendent upon  somebody  else  and  obliged  to  move  every  year 
perhaps,  and  never  feel  that  anything  is  our  own,  as  we  would 
do  on  a  rented  place.  But  are  you  sure  about  the  title,  John  ? 
Don't  for  pity's  sake  let  us  buy  a  ranch  to  which  there  is  not 
a  good  title." 

"  That's  just  what  I  told  Mr.  Blake,  the  man  that  owns 
it.  I  told  him  that  if  there  was  anything  at  all  wrong  with 
the  title  I  wouldn't  touch  it  with  a  ten-foot  pole,  but  he  says 
it's  all  right,  an'  he  is  to  get  an  abstract  of  it  from  the  re- 


OR,  JUST  A  c AMPIN'.  189 

corder's  office.  The  place  has  never  had  but  two  or  three 
owners,  an'  it's  clear  outside  of  the  land  grant,  so  if  there's 
no  mortgages  onto  it  I  don't  see  how  there  can  be  any  dan- 
ger, an'  of  course  the  abstract  will  show." 

"  I  almost  wish  you  had  told  him  we  would  take  it.  I'm 
afraid  somebody  else  will  step  in  and  get  it  first,  there  are  so 
many  looking  for  places  now.  When  did  you  tell  him  you 
would  give  him  an  answer  ? " 

"  He  is  to  come  over  to-morrow  and  look  at  the  things 
we  have  to  trade.  If  we  kin  agree,  then  he  is  to  get  the  ab- 
stract, an'  if  that  is  all  right,  it's  a  trade.  I  wish  you  could 
see  the  place,  mother,  before  we  decide  about  it,  but  I  don't 
see  how  you  kin,  unless  we  take  Johnny  over  to  Ritchie's 
and  leave  him  while  you  go  an'  take  a  look  at  it. 

"What  do  you  say,  Johnny?  Will  you  stay  at  Mr. 
Ritchie's  while  mother  goes  with  me  to  see  the  new 
place?" 

"  Won't  the  water  and  mud  rise  clear  over  us  and  bury 
us  ? "  asked  the  boy,  in  his  weak  little  voice. 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  his  father,  "  Mr.  Ritchie's  house  is 
higher  up  than  ours,  you  know.  There  is  not  a  bit  of  dan- 
ger." 

"Then  I'll  stay." 

But  Mrs.  Parsons  did  not  wish  to  go  to  see  the  place. 

"  It  would  be  a  hard  day's  ride,"  she  said,  "  fifty  miles 
there  and  back,  and  we  would  have  to  go  on  horseback,  I 
suppose,  for  it  must  be  awful  slow  getting  along  with  a  wagon, 
now;  and  besides  it  would  make  no  difference  any  way.  If 
you  think  we  can  make  a  living  on  it,  we  had  best  take  it,  for 
we  can't  stay  here  many  days  longer.  We  have  no  other 
place  to  go  to,  and  it  will  not  be  easy  to  find  places  that  we 
can  trade  for." 

And  so  they  talked  on  while  the  tea  was  made  and  drank. 


190  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

Then  they  lay  down,  but  it  was  almost  day  before  sleep  came 
to  either  of  them. 

About  noon  the  next  day  Mr.  Blake  came  as  he  had  pro- 
mised. 

He  was  a  man  of  medium  size  and  pretty  well  built.  He 
had  a  red  face  and  a  large  mouth,  and  appeared  about  fifty 
years  of  age. 

Certainly  not  a  handsome  man,  he  was  yet  not  noticeably 
homely.  In  fact,  there  was  nothing  especially  noticeable 
about  him  in  any  way.  To  all  appearances  he  was  an  or- 
dinary kind  of  man,  who  had  doubtless  mined  some;  been  a 
farmer  back  in  the  states,  perhaps,  and  at  some  period  in  his 
life  had  probably  kept  a  hotel  in  a  country  town,  or  engaged 
in  some  other  occupation  which  had  given  him  a  little  more 
the  air  of  a  man  of  business,  and  a  little  less  that  of  a  day 
laborer. 

At  dinner,  of  which  he  was  invited  to  partake,  he  asked 
a  blessing.  As  they  ate  he  commended  the  cooking;  spoke  of 
the  great  loss  which  his  host  had  sustained  from  the  destruc- 
tion of  his  ranch  by  the  overflow,  and  condemned  in  strong 
terms  the  outrage  upon  the  rights  of  so  good  citizens  as  those 
at  whose  table  he  sat. 

Then  he  passed  on  to  a  description  of  his  own  ranch, 
which  he  wished  to  sell. 

It  was  well  up  in  the  hills,  he  said,  but  it  was  a  fine  place 
for  fruit,  and  was  out  of  danger  from  the  overflow,  and  all 
it  needed  to  make  it  a  valuable  property  was  the  cultivation 
and  care  which  Mr.  Parsons  knew  so  well  how  to  give  it. 

He  offered  it  for  sale  cheap  because  he  was  going  back 
east,  and  wanted  to  clear  everything  up  before  he  went,  and 
get  what  he  had  together. 

He  would  prefer  to  sell  for  cash,  but  if  he  could  not  do 
that,  he  would  take  a  pair  of  horses  and  any  other  stock 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  191 

they  might  have  to  turn  out.  And  if  he  could  not  dispose 
of  them  readily  in  the  neighborhood,  would  drive  them  to 
Sacramento,  on  his  way  to  New  York,  and  sell  them  there. 

After  dinner  he  went  out,  in  company  with  Mr.  Parsons, 
and  looked  at  the  different  animals  and  things  which  the 
now  nearly  impoverished  family  had  to  offer.  He  readily 
agreed  to  take  one  pair  of  the  horses  and  a  wagon  and  the 
top  carriage,  also  three  cows.  But  this  still  left  a  difference 
which  he  proposed  should  be  made  up  by  a  note  to  be  signed 
by  Mr.  Parsons  and  a  couple  of  his  neighbors. 

To  this  Mr.  Parsons  would  not  consent.  He  doubted  if 
any  one  would  sign  a  note  with  him  now,  and  he  could  not 
bear  to  think  of  asking  and  being  refused,  and  preferred 
giving  a  mortgage  on  the  place  which  he  was  to  get  of  Mr. 
Blake. 

Finally  it  was  agreed  to  pay  him  the  fifty  dollars  remain- 
ing in  bank,  and  in  addition  to  the  other  articles  named,  to 
turn  him  out  the  six  head  of  fat  hogs  in  the  pen  and  certain 
articles  of  household  furniture,  the  most  valuable  in  their 
possession,  but  for  which  there  would  not  be  room  in  the 
shanty  to  which  they  were  going,  and  so  the  bargain  was 
made. 

The  Parsons  were  to  retain  possession  of  all  the  property 
until  they  had  moved  on  to  the  new  place;  then  to  put  the 
goods  and  animals  at  the  disposal  of  Mr.  Blake  and  receive 
the  deed. 

When  this  was  all  settled  between  them,  and  a  memo- 
randum of  the  whole  matter  made  and  carefully  deposited  in 
the  pocket-book  of  Mr.  Blake,  that  gentleman  returned  the 
pocket-book  to  his  pocket,  buttoned  up  his  coat,  and  mount- 
ing his  horse,  rode  back  to  town. 

When  he  was  gone  Mrs.  Parsons  gave  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"Well,  I  am  glad  it  is  all   fixed  up,"  she  said,  "and  I 


192  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

shall  feel  better  still  when  the  deed  is  made  and  we  are  in 
possession.  All  the  time  he  was  here  I  was  afraid  that  the 
trade  would  fall  through  some  way,  and  I  cannot  begin  to 
tell  how  anxious  I  am  to  get  away  from  here,  or  how  I 
dreaded  having  to  rent  a  place.  I'd  rather  live  in  a  hut  and 
have  it  my  own,  than  in  a  palace  that  belonged  to  another, 
and  I  am  like  Johnny;  I  begin  to  feel  as  if  this  awful  mass 
that  is  about  us  might  raise  suddenly  and  swallow  us  all  in 
a  moment." 

"  Yes,"  replied  her  husband,"  it  is  better  that  we  go,  though 
it's  mortal  hard  to  leave  this  place,  which  was  the  purtiest 
and  best  in  the  valley.  But  it  don't  make  much  odds,  I 
s'pose,  where  one  is,  so  they  have  enough  to  eat;  and  I  guess 
we  can  git  that  up  there. 

"  I'll  load  up  to-night,  an*  start  to-morrow  with  the  first 
load.  It'll  take  me  two  days  to  make  the  round  trip,  an' 
hard  days  at  that,  but  I'll  put  on  all  four  of  the  hosses  and 
take  all  I  kin  pile  on  the  wagon.  Then  I'll  get  Ritchie  to 
help  with  the  next  load  an'  we'll  take  Johnny  in  the  carriage 
an'  make  it  all  in  two  trips  with  somebody  to  drive  the  cows. 
You'd  better  write  Jennie  an'  Lucy,  mother,  an'  tell  'em  to 
come  to  Phippsburg,  so's  to  meet  us  there  when  we  go  with 
the  last  load.  That'll  save  comin'  after  'em,  an'  they'll  be 
thar  to  help  you  fix  things  when  we  git  thar." 

"  Poor  things,  what  a  home-coming  it  will  be  to  them," 
sighed  Mrs.  Parsons. 

Nevertheless  she  wrote  telling  the  girls  what  had  occurred 
and  how  they  must  take  the  boat  on  the  night  of  the  day  on 
which  they  would  get  the  letter.  They  were  to  get  off  at 
Phippsburg  instead  of  the  old  landing  and  wait  at  the  hotel 
until  their  parents  called  for  them  on  their  way  to  the  new 
home  up  in  the  mountains. 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  193 

This  letter  John  Parsons  mailed  the  next  day,  while  his 
teams  were  eating  and  resting  from  the  pull  over  the  hills 
with  their  load  of  household  goods. 

That  night  he  slept  in  the  shanty  upon  the  place  which 
he  had  bought,  and  the  following  day  returned  to  his  family 
and  the  doomed  cottage. 

With  the  help  of  a  neighbor  he  loaded  the  remainder  of 
his  worldly  possessions  upon  the  two  wagons,  the  heavy  one 
and  the  spring  fruit  wagon.  This  neighbor  was  to  drive  one 
team  and  Mr.  Ritchie  volunteered  the  use  of  another  animal 
to  attach  to  the  carriage  in  which  was  Mrs.  Parsons,  with 
Johnny  propped  up  among  his  pillows. 

It  was  a  sad  leaving  of  the  old  home. 

The  muddy  water  was  now  entering  over  the  front  steps 
and  beginning  to  form  pools  on  all  the  lower  floors.  Only 
the  topmost  twigs  of  the  apple  and  pear  trees,  which  were  in 
lower  ground  than  the  house,  and  portions  of  the  evergreens 
in  the  front  yard  were  above  the  deposit.  Every  other 
green  thing  upon  the  valuable  portion  of  the  ranch  had 
disappeared  entirely  from  sight. 

Martha  Parsons  wept  as  she  took  a  last  look  at  the  place, 
and  yet  she  was  at  heart  glad  to  get  away. 

It  was  like  a  nightmare,  staying  there  and  seeing  that 
mass  of  mud  and  water  rise  day  by  day.  And  besides,  how- 
ever poor  their  new  home  might  be,  it  was  henceforth  the 
only  one  they  were  to  know,  and  she  was  anxious  to  get  into 
it  and  begin  the  work  of  improvement. 

As  for  John  Parsons,  he  looked  neither  to  the  right  nor 
to  the  left.  He  did  not  even  turn  his  head  for  a  last  look 
at  the  old  place  as  he  rounded  the  hill  that  shut  it  from 
their  view. 

Pride  and  ambition  were  well  nigh  dead  within  him,  and 

13 


194  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

he  hoped  for  nothihg  beyond  a  bare  existence  for  the  rest  of 
his  life. 

He  would  come  back,  he  thought,  when  the  roads  got 
good  again,  and  if  the  buildings  were  not  burned  down, 
would  tear  off  some  of  the  boards  from  such  portions  as 
were  not  buried  by  the  overflow,  and  use  them  to  help  patch 
up  with,  on  the  new  ranch.  Beyond  that  the  place  was  abso- 
lutely worthless,  and  probably  some  tramping  miner  would 
carelessly  set  fire  to  the  buildings  after  having  camped  in 
them  over  night. 

The  fleeing  family  had  perhaps  placed  a  distance  of 
three  miles  between  themselves  and  their  ruined  home  when 
from  the  other  direction  appeared  two  horsemen. 

As  they  came  opposite  the  cottage,  they  looked  for  evi- 
dences of  the  presence  of  its  former  inmates,  but  did  not 
pull  up  their  animals. 

"  Evidently  they  too  have  pulled  out,"  remarked  one  of 
the  horsemen  to  his  companion.  "  I  say,  Jobbers,  it's  pretty 
hard,  now,  on  the  poor  ranchers,  and  I'll  be  hanged  if  I 
don't  wish  there  v^as  some  way  of  getting  out  the  gold  with- 
out ruining  their  homes.  Look  there  now;  finest  ranch  and 
finest  family  in  the  whole  country.  Ranch  gone  to  the  dogs 
and  the  family  gone,  God  only  knows  where." 

"Oh  'e's  all  right,"  returned  the  other.  "  'E'll  get  another 
bit  of  land  some'er's  and  go  to  work  again,  and  in  a  few  years 
'e'll  'ave  it  all  set  out  with  trees  and  grape-vines.  Great 
country  this  for  a  man  as  'as  to  work  for  'is  livin';  great 
country,  and  w'en  I  return  to  Hingland  I  intend  to  hadvise 
all  my  farmer  hacquaintances  to  hemigrate  to  Califor- 
nia." 

And  then  the  two  men  relapsed  into  silence  and  rode  on. 
The  next  day  Mr.  Jobbers  took  the  boat  for  Sacramento, 


196  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

and  from  there  went  to  New  York,  from  whence  he  returned 
to  his  own  country,  fully  impressed  with  the  idea  that  how- 
ever rough  a  life  it  might  be  in  the  mines  for  gentlemen, 
California  was  a  great  place  for  men  who  work  for  a  living, 
and  is  to-day  probably  advising  every  farmer  whoin  he  meets 
to  "  hemigrate." 


OR.  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  197 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE    MOUNTAIN    RANCH. 

It  was  high  noon  when  our  friends  reached  Phippsburg, 
and  they  were  still  fifteen  miles  from  the  new  home  to  which 
they  were  going. 

The  girls  had  not  yet  arrived,  the  steamer  on  which  they 
had  taken  passage  having  grounded  upon  a  bar  formed  from 
the  washing  from  the  mines.* 

Johnny,  too,  was  complaining  of  his  back,  and  his  parents 
feared  to  take  him  further  that  day  over  the  rough  roads. 

It  was  decided,  therefore,  that  Mrs.  Parsons  and  Johnny 
should  remain  at  the  hotel  in  Phippsburg  while  the  men  went 
on  with  the  goods,  and  that  on  the  morrow  when  they  returned, 
the  heavy  wagon  and  carriage  with  the  team  which  Mr. 
Blake  was  to  have,  should  be  turned  over  to  him  and  the 
family  should  go -on  in  the  spring  wagon. 

Small  as  it  was,  the  expense  of  remaining  at  the  hotel 

*  SAN  FRANCISCO,  CAL.,  Sept.  15. — The  rapid  filling  up  of  Sacramento  River  and 
its  tributaries  by  ddbris  from  hydraulic  mines  has  been  brought  forcibly  to  public  notice 
by  the  dangerous  sandbars  recently  formed,  which  have  proved  ruinous  to  river  navi- 
gation. Just  below  Sacramento  a  big  sandbar  formed,  so  that  a  loaded  steamer  draw- 
ing only  four  and  a  half  feet  of  water  grounded  this  week — and  only  got  off  with  diffi- 
culty. Ten  years  ago  deep-sea  vessels  could  pass  this  place,  where,  it  is  estimated,  tne 
deposits  of  mining  debris  now  reaches  a  depth  of  twenty  feet.  Yuba  River  has  been  so 
filled  up  that  the  smallest  boat  cannot  get  to  Maryville  except  when  there  is  a  flood, 
though  formerly  big  boats  ran  there.  Feather  River  is  virtually  closed  to  navigation 
all  the  year,  because  of  formidable  bars.  Of  course  San  Francisco  Bay  suffers  also, 
and  a  large  part  near  the  mouth  of  the  Sacramento  has  been  so  badly  filled  up  as  to 
make  navigation  dangerous.  The  "  Slickens  War,"  as  it  is  called,  is  a  fight  of  one 
rapidly  dwindling  industry  against  the  agricultural  interests  of  two  of  the  richest  val- 
leys in  the  state  and  the  navigation  of  the  main  inland  waters.  Unless  something  is 
done  soon  to  deepen  Sacramento  River  navigation  must  be  abandoned  and  the  farmers 
will  be  left  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  railroads. — [Special  to  New  York  Tribune. 


198  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

was  a  sad  draw  on  the  few  remaining  dollars  in  the  possession 
of  John  and  Martha  Parsons,  but  it  could  not  be  helped  and 
the  teams  drove  on  and  left  them. 

Towards  evening  the  boat  arrived,  and  on  it  came  Jennie 
and  Lucy.  Mrs.  Parsons  could  not  leave  Johnny  to  go  down 
to  the  landing,  but  watched  at  the  hotel  window  and  beck- 
oned to  them  as  they  came  up  the  opposite  side  of  the  street. 

When  the  girls  saw  their  mother  they  hurried  across  the 
street  to  the  hotel  and  into  the  sitting-room  where  she 
awaited  them,  and  in  another  moment  all  three  were  crying 
upon  each  others'  shoulders. 

"Oh  mother,  mother,  it's  awful  to  think  that  the  old  place 
is  lost,  buried  by  the  overflow  from  those  mines;  is  there  no 
way  to  save  it  ?  Can't  it  be  floated  off  again  ? "  sobbed  Lucy, 
her  whole  frame  shaking  with  excitement.  "  I  can't  bear  to 
live  and  know  that  you  and  father  are  driven  out  of  your 
comfortable  home  and  forced  to  begin  on  a  piece  of  wild 
land  again.  I  wish  you  would  go  to  town  and  live  and  let 
me  teach  school  and  support  you.  I'm  sure  I  could  do  it." 

"  You  must  not  take  it  so  hard,  dears,"  returned  their 
mother,  still  holding  the  girls  close  to  her.  "  True,  it  is  very 
sad  to  be  obliged  to  give  up  the  old  home,  but  no  doubt  we 
shall  be  very  comfortable  on  the  new  place  when  we  get  it 
fixed  up  a  little.  What  hurts  me  most  is  the  knowledge  that 
we  may  never  be  able  to  visit  you  if  you  go  so  far  away  as  I 
suppose  you  will  do  when  you  are  married  to  Mr.  Annelsey." 

"  I'll  never  marry,  mother,  never,"  sobbed  Lucy;  "I  have 
written  Mr.  Annelsey  and  broken  off  our  engagement,  and  am 
going  to  stay  with  you  and  father  and  help  take  care  of 
Johnny  as  long  as  I  live.  You  need  not  say  a  word  against 
it,  for  it's  too  late;  the  letter  is  half  way  to  New  York  by  this 
time." 

To  say  that  Mrs.  Parsons  was  greatly  surprised  at  this, 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  199 

would  be  but  to  state  the  truth.  To  say  that  she  greatly 
regretted  it,  would  not  be  so  true. 

She  had  felt  a  certain  degree  of  pride  in  the  thought  that 
Lucy  would  marry  wealthy,  and  had  sought  to  obtain  com- 
fort for  the  supposed  coming  separation  in  the  knowledge 
that  her  daughter  could  want  for  nothing  which  wealth  could 
buy,  yet  at  times  had  feared  that  Lucy  might  not  find  happi- 
ness in  the  union,  and  wondered  if  it  would  not  have  been 
better  for  her  to  have  married  Erastus. 

Especially  since  the  last  great  trouble  had  come  upon 
them,  and  she  saw  how  her  husband  was  breaking  under  it, 
she  could  not  help  thinking  how  much  comfort  it  would  have 
been  to  him,  and  to  herself,  if  the  young  folks  could  have 
found  their  happiness  in  wedding  each  other  and  remaining 
with  or  near  them  in  their  old  age.  And  now,  while  she 
scolded  Lucy  a  little  for  her  haste  in  the  matter,  she  could 
not  but  feel  thankful  at  heart  that  her  child  was  not  to  go 
from  her,  at  least  for  the  present. 

Jennie  joined  her  sister  in  deploring  the  loss  of  their  old 
home,  and  wept  aloud  and  violently  when  her  mother  spoke 
of  separation,  but  she  did  not  offer  to  teach  school  to  support 
her  parents,  and  when  her  mother  gently  bade  her  cease  to 
weep  she  wept  the  harder  and  clung  the  more  closely. 

"Come,  Jennie,"  said  Mrs.  Parsons  finally,  "you  really 
must  cheer  up,  dear.  It  is  not  so  bad  but  it  might  be  worse. 
We  have  each  other  yet  and  no  doubt  shall  get  "on  nicely  in 
the  new  home,  and  when  Mr.  Ensign  gets  ready,  you  and  he 
can  be  married  and  live  in  San  Francisco,  which  is  not  so  far 
away  bijj  that  you  can  come  home  and  see  us  once  in  a  while, 
and  maybe  we  can  visit  you — why  Jennie,  what  is  the  matter; 
have  you  broken  with  Mr.  Ensign  also  ? " 

But  Jennie  only  cried  the  harder  and  clung  the  closer 
with  her  face  hidden  upon  her  mother's  shoulder. 


200  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

Seeing  the  inability  of  her  sister  to  speak,  Lucy  said: 
"  Jennie  is  married  already,  mother,  and  she  and  Mr.  Ensign 
are  to  start  for  Chicago  next  week. 

"  Mr.  Ensign  came  to  see  her  the  night  that  we  got  your 
letter  telling  us  of  the  breaking  of  the  dam,  and  found  us 
crying,  and  when  we  told  him  about  it  he  urged  Jennie  to 
marry  him  at  once,  and  finally  she  consented  and  he  went 
and  got  a  clergyman,  and  we  all  went  down  into  the  Profes- 
sor's parlor  and  saw  them  married." 

"  I  sh-shall  ne-never  forgive  myself  in-in  the  world  if  you 
are  angry  with  me,"  sobbed  Jennie.  "  You  know  you-you 
wrote  in  the  letter  that -that  we — " 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  know,"  said  Mrs.  Parsons  soothingly,  strok- 
ing Jennie's  hair  the  while,  "  I  wrote  you  that  if  your  lovers 
urged  a  speedy  marriage  your  father  and  I  would  not  object. 
So  you  have  done  nothing  wrong,  and  I  am  sure  Mr.  Ensign 
will  make  you  a  good,  kind  husband,  and  I  hope  you  will  be 
very  happy.  I  am  only  sorry  that  you  are  going  so  far  away. 
Cannot  Mr.  Ensign  find  work  in  San  Francisco  ? " 

At  this  Jennie  began  to  check  her  sobs,  and  from  the  two 
girls  their  mother  learned  the  whole  story. 

Ensign  had  chanced  to  meet  a  gentleman  from  Chicago 
for  whom  he  had  worked  before  he  came  to  the  coast,  and 
who  now  offered  him  a  position  at  good  wages  with  the  pros- 
pect of  a  foremanship  in  a  short  time,  if  he  would  return  to 
Chicago  and  the  old  shop.  As  wages  were  not  so  good  in 
San  Francisco  as  formerly,  and  there  were  rumors  of  the  fac- 
tory shutting  down  entirely,  he  had  decided  to  accept  the 
offer,  provided  Jennie  would  go  with  him  as  his  wife,  and 
going  to  consult  her  with  little  hope  that  she  wo.ild  consent 
to  so  hasty  a  marriage,  had  arrived  just  as  the  girls  were  in 
their  deepest  distress  over  the  news  from  home.  Taking 
advantage  of  the  situation  he  urged  an  instant  marriage. 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  2OI 

which  ended  in  Jennie's  sobbing  out  a  consent  upon  his 
shoulder,  and  the  young  man  had  gone  at  once  for  the  pastor 
of  a  church  and  had  the  ceremony  performed  in  the  presence 
of  the  family  with  vvhorti  the  girls  were  rooming. 

He  was  to  come  for  Jennie  in  a  few  days — as  soon  as  he 
could  arrange  some  little  matters  of  business,  and  they  were 
to  go  to  Sacramento  by  boat  and  from  there  by  rail  to  Chi- 
cago. 

"And  so  I  am  to  lose  one  of  my  girls  after  all,"  said  Mrs 
Parsons  when  they  had  finished.     "  Well,  if   you  are  only 
happy,  dear,  I  will  try  and  not  be  sorry  that  you  are  going." 

The  next  day  when  Mr.  Parsons  returned  he  hugged  and 
kissed  the  girls  in  a  boisterous  manner,  which  he  intended 
as  a  cover  for  his  feelings  over  the  loss  of  the  old  place  and 
their  changed  circumstances. 

Then  he  went  to  Mr.  Blake's  office,  delivered  up  the 
horses,  wagon  and  carriage,  and  gave  him  a  bill  of  sale  for 
the  hogs  and  the  household  goods  which  he  was  to  have  and 
which  had  been  left  by  agreement  at  a  neighbor's. 

In  return  he  received  a  warranty  deed  to  the  new  place, 
made  by  his  request  and  without  her  knowledge  in  the  name 
of  his  wife. 

He  did  not  do  this  for  the  purpose  of  defrauding  anyone, 
for  he  owed  no  man  a  dollar,  but  he  had  lost  all  pride  in 
ownership  and  somehow  felt  that  honor  required  that,  hav- 
ing failed  to  protect  his  own  rights  and  guard  his  family 
from  suffering,  he  should  now  resign  all  claim  to  the  direc- 
tion of  affairs  and  place  what  little  was  left  of  their  fortune 
in  the  hands  of  her  who,  equally  with  himself,  had  aided  in 
accumulating  all  that  was. lost,  as  well  as  all  that  remained. 

Accompanying  the  deed  was  an  abstract  of  title  signed 
by  the  recorder  of  deeds  for  the  county,  showing  that  there- 
were  no  mortgages  on  record  against  the  land  therein  de- 


202  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

scribed,  and  that  the  title  thereto  was  in  the  name  of  Mr. 
Blake. 

Not  daring  to  trust  to  his  own  knowledge  of  such  things, 
Mr.  Parsons  took  the  abstract  and  deed  to  the  landlord  of 
the  hotel,  whom  he  thought  a  man  likely  to  be  possessed  of 
some  knowledge  of  business.  The  landlord  looked  them 
over  and  pronounced  them  all  right. 

Determined  to  have  no  lingering  doubts  to  worry  him 
hereafter,  Mr.  Parsons  then  sought  out  the  village  lawyer, 
and  submitted  them  to  him  also. 

That  gentleman  glanced  them  over  and  replied: 

"It's  all  right,  sir;  all  right." 

"  Land  entered  by  John  Smith,  who  sells  to  Peter  Jones. 
Deed  signed  by  John  Smith  and  Hannah  E.  Smith  his  wife. 
They  sell  to  Thomas  R.  Blake.  Thomas  R.  Blake  and  Mary 
S.  Blake  deed  to  Martha  J.  Parsons. 

"  No  mortgage  appears  upon  the  records  in  my  office 
against  the  above  described  land. 

"  ENDS  PUTERBAUGH, 

Recorder." 

"  That's  all  right.  Title  in  your  wife  Nobody  can  get 
it  away  from  you,  sir." 

"That's  what  I  thought  every  time  afore,"  muttered 
John  Parsons  to  himself  as  he  left  the  office,  "but  they  did  it 
all  the  same.  But  maybe  as  this  place  ain't  worth  much  and 
ain't  never  likely  to  be,  they'll  leave  us  in  peace  the  rest  of 
our  lives." 

It  was  near  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  when  the  family 
found  themselves  in  the  spring  wagon  and  on  their,  way. 

The  road  wound  round  and  round  the  hills,  now  up,  now 
down,  rocky  and  full  of  gullies  washed  by  the  rains;  never 
being  repaired  except  when  it  became  absolutely  impassable, 
and  in  spite  of  the  careful  driving  of  his  father,  the  rough 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  203 


jolting  hurt  Johnny,  sometimes  causing  him  to  cry  out  with 
pain. 

Night  overtook  them  when  they  were  still  several  miles 
from  their  journey's  end,  making  it  still  more  difficult  to 
travel  with  'any  speed,  so  that  it  was  ten  o'clock  when  they 
turned  their  tried  and  jaded  horses  off  the  main  road  into  a 
by-track  to  the  right,  and  a  quarter  of  a  mile  further  on 
pulled  up  in  front  of  a  cheap,  unpainted  board  shanty — their 
new  home  upon  the  mountain  side. 

It  was  too  late  to  think  of  doing  anything  except  to  make 
a  cup  of  coffee  and  bunk  down  in  the  easiest  way  possible 
for  the  night. 

Mr.  Parsons,  with  the  assistance  of  the  neighbor  who 
came  with  him  the  day  before,  had  put  up  a  cook  stove  and 
made  a  bunk  for  themselves  on  the  floor,  which  remained 
just  as  they  had  crawled  out  of  it  in  the  morning.  Another 
similar  one  was  now  made  up  in  another  corner  of  the  room, 
and  upon  these  the  family  slept,  except  Johnny,  who  occu- 
pied his  wheeled  cot,  it  having  been  the  last  thing  packed  on 
the  wagon  before  leaving  the  old  home. 

When  they  arose  the  next  morning  the  sun  was  shining 
over  the  mountain  tops,  and  doing  the  best  it  could  to  make 
the  scene  a  pleasant  one. 

Mr.  Parsons  hastily  slipped  on  his  clothes  and  went  out  to 
look  to  the  horses. 

Mrs.  Parsons  and  the  girls  also  dressed  hurriedly  and 
then  stepped  to  the  door  and  looked  out.  It  had  been  too 
dark  to  see  much  the  night  before,  and  they  had  been  too 
utterly  tired  out  to  try  to  see  even  the  little  that  might  have 
been  seen,  but  now  they  were  eager  to  know  how  the  place 
really  did  look. 

A  sad  enough  contrast  it  was  to  the  old  home.  Instead 
of  a  white  cottage  with  its  green  blinds  and  wide  open  ve- 


204  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

randahs,  their  dwelling  was  a  rough  shanty  of  boards  nailed 
perpendicularly  to  the  framework,  resembling  in  this  respect 
the  one  which  they  had  occupied  for  a  few  days  on  the  Sus- 
col  ranch.  But  instead  of  being  sixteen  feet  in  length,  these 
boards  were  but  ten  feet  long,  and  as  a  consequence  there 
was  no  loft  above  as  in  the  Suscol  Cottage. 

The  interior  was  ceiled  with  cotton  cloth,  but  there  were 
no  little  nicely  made  conveniences;  no  sink;  no  cupboard; 
no  partition;  no  porch  over  the  door.  All  was  in  one  room 
and  all  was  cheap  and  rough. 

Outside,  the  view  was  no  more  cheering.  The  shanty 
stood  well  up  on  the  hill,  or  mountain.  Below,  and  for  a 
little  distance  both  in  front  and  in  the  rear,  was  a  piece  of 
tolerably  level  ground,  perhaps  forty  acres  in  all,  which  de- 
clined gently  to  the  west,  ending  in  a  ravine,  beyond  which 
the  earth  became  broken  and  rocky  again. 

Above  the  shanty  the  ground  sloped  upwards  with  a 
sharper  pitch  for  a  few  hundred  feet  and  then  rose  rapidly, 
becoming  more  and  more  precipitous,  until  it  reached  the 
summit  a  third  of  a  mile  away. 

In  places  portions  of  the  solid  rock  foundation  projected 
through  the  barren  soil,  while  in  others,  immense  detached 
boulders,  weighing  hundreds  of  tons,  lay  only  slightly  imbed- 
ded in  the  earth  and  looking  as  if  a  push  would  send  them 
crashing  down  the  mountain  side. 

Here  and  there  stood  a  digger  pine,  its  blue-green 
spines  looking,  in  the  distance,  like  bunches  of  thick 
smoke. 

These,  with  a  few  scattering  white  oaks,  half  denuded  of 
their  limbs  by  the  tempests,  and  an  occasional  clump  of 
manzineto  bushes,  were  the  only  vegetation  which  grew  here, 
except  where  some  large  boulder  formed  a  slight  protection 
from  the  wind,  and  prevented  the  rains  from  washing  away 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  205 

the  thin  coating  of  earth  below  it,  might  be  found  a  few 
bunches  of  coarse  wild  grass. 

A  fe.nce  of  boards  had  been  thrown  around  the  tillable 
ground  by  the  last  occupants,  but  this  was  down  in  places, 
and  only  added  to  the'general  look  of  isolation  and  decay. 

The  road  by  which  they  had  come  the  night  before  could 
be  seen  at  one  point  only,  and  that  nearly  a  mile  distant, 
where  it  wound  around  a  spur  of  the  mountain  and  dived 
down  into  a  ravine  from  which  it  emerged  only  to  wind 
around  other  bluffs  and  spurs  and  dive  down  into  other  hol- 
lows out  of  the  range  of  vision  of  anyone  standing  in  the 
door  or  at  the  windows  of  the  shanty. 

By  ascending  to  the  summit  of  the  mountain,  a  succession 
of  lower  ridges  and  hills  could  be  seen  stretching  away 
towards  Phippsburg  and  the  river,  with  sometimes  a  glimpse 
of  the  valley  beyond,  and  of  a  thin  line  of  smoke  from  the 
steamers  that  went  puffing  up  and  down  that  highway  of 
nature;  but  from  the  lower  ground  on  which  the  shanty  stood 
this  view  was  shut  out  by  intervening  hills,  and  there  came  a 
feeling  of  loneliness,  and  sequestration  indescribable,  to  the 
three  women  as  they  looked  out  upon  the  scene  that  first 
morning. 

A  thick  crop  of  self-sown  oats  mixed  with  weeds  had 
sprung  up  on  the  ground,  untilled  for  two  years.  These  the 
rain  had  beaten  flat  to  the  earth  in  places,  while  in  others 
they  still  kept  a  half  erect  position  and  were  twisted  together 
in  bunches. 

The  few  scattering  grape  vines,  left  to  themselves,  had 
broken  from  their  supports  and  run  riot  among  the  weeds 
and  grass.  The  peach  and  pear  trees  showed  the  same  lack 
of  care,  the  very  luxuriousness  of  their  growth  and  their 
untrimmed  appearance  adding  to  the  general  look  of  desola- 
tion. 


206 


DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 


And  this  was  the  scene  upon  which  Martha  Parsons 
looked,  standing  in  the  door  of  the  shanty  with  her  two 
daughters.  Contrasting  it  with  the  home  they  had  just  left, 
and  recalling  the  fact  that  the  nearest  neighbor  was  two  miles 
away,  is  it  any  wonder  that  her  heart  sank  and  that  for  a 
moment  she  almost  wished  they  had  gone  down  into  the  val- 
ley and  rented,  instead  of  buying  this  isolated  and  lonely 
place  upon  the  mountain  side  ? 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  2OJ 


CHAPTER  XX 

A    GLEAM    OF    SUNLIGHT. 

But  it  would  not  do  to  give  way  to  feelings  of  despair. 
This  was  to  be  their  home  and  they  must  make  the  best  of  it, 
and  without  a  word  she  turned  back  and  began  arranging 
things  so  as  to  give  room  to  set  the  table  and  get  what  break- 
fast was  possible  under  the  circumstances. 

Mr.  Parsons  came  in  with  his  arms  full  of  wood  gathered 
from  a  fallen  tree  top,  and  soon  a  fire  was  burning  in  the 
stove  and  the  smell  of  coffee  filled  the  room. 

No  complaints  were  uttered,  but  all  worked  to  get  things 
to  rights.  Nails  were  driven  into  the  studding  of  the  walls 
and  articles  of  clothing  and  maay  of  the  cooking  utensils  were 
hung  up  out  of  the  way,  at  least  for  the  time  being. 

The  table  was  placed  in  the  center  of  the  room  and 
covered  with  a  white  cloth,  the  frugal  meal  placed  upon  it 
and  the  family  gathered  about  for  the  first  meal  in  the  new 
home.  As  they  ate  they  talked  of  how  best  to  arrange  things. 

If  it  had  been  the  dry  season  they  could  have  got  on 
much  more  comfortably,  but  with  the  certainty  of  rain  one- 
third  of  the  time  for  months  to  come,  the  prospect  was  dismal 
enough. 

However,  they  must  do  the  best  they  could,  and  after 
breakfast  Mr.  Parsons  helped  to  put  up  the  beds,  one  in  each 
corner  farthest  from  the  stove,  which  stood  in  the  center  at 
that  end  of  the  room  where  a  single  window  of  six  small 
panes  of  glass  looked  out  upon  the  mountain  above  them. 
At  the  other  end  were  two  windows  of  twelve  panes  each, 


208  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

through  which  could  be  seen  the  hills  stretching  away  towards 
the  river. 

There  was  also  a  similar  window  on  each  side  at  the  right 
of  the  doors,  so  the  room  was  not  dark,  however  much  it 
might  lack  for  conveniences. 

Everything  not  needed  for  daily  use  was  packed  in  boxes 
and  trunks  and  stored  away  under  the  beds,  but  even  with 
this  economy  of  space  very  little  room  was  left  for  moving 
about. 

Each  member  of  the  family,  however,  tried  to  be  cheerful 
and  so  cheer  the  rest.  Lucy  even  went  so  far  as  to  attempt 
a  witticism,  and  suggested  that  there  was  no  lack  of  room  so 
long  as  none  of  them  were  obliged  to  leave  the  house  in  order 
to  get  space  to  open  the  stove  door. 

Strips  of  bright  carpet  were  laid  between  the  beds,  about 
which  were  hung  curtains  reaching  from  the  ceiling  to  the 
floor.  The  clock  found  a  resting  place  upon  a  shelf  to  the 
left  of  the  front  door.  A  bureau  with  a  mirror  occupied  the 
space  between  the  windows  at  the  end  where  the  beds  stood. 
The  table,  when  not  in  use,  was  folded  up  and  allowed  to 
stand  in  the  center  of  the  floor  ready  to  be  opened  at  meal 
time.  Upon  the  walls  were  hung  a  few  pictures.  The  white 
curtains  which  had  once  adorned  the  windows  of  the  sitting- 
room  of  the  old  home,  were  fitted  to  those  of  the  new;  and 
when  all  was  done  that  could  be  done,  the  room  looked  so 
bright  and  cosy  that  the  hearts  of  its  occupants  lifted  a  little, 
and  but  for  the  thought  that  one  was  so  soon  to  leave  them, 
whom  they  knew  not  when,  if  ever,  they  would  meet  again, 
they  might  have  been  almost  happy. 

Jennie  did  not  know  what  day  to  look  for  her  husband's 
coming,  for  he  could  not  tell  when  they  parted  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, how  long  it  would  take  him  to  arrange  his  business, 
which  consisted  in  the  collection  of  several  little  sums  of 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  209 

money  owing  to  him,  but  she  had  written  from  Phippsburg, 
telling  him  where  to  go  for  directions  how  to  find  her  ;  and 
one  day,  about  a  week  after  the  family  had  taken  possession 
of  the  shanty  on  the  mountain  side  he  came,  having  walked 
out  from  the  Landing. 

Mrs.  Parsons  cried  a  little  when  Ensign  kissed  her  and 
called  her  "  mother."  It  reminded  her  so  forcibly  of  the 
separation  which  his  coming  presaged  that  she  could  not  help 
it.  But  she  welcomed  him  warmly  and  made  him  feel  that 
she  loved  him  already  for  Jennie's  sake. 

From  John  Parsons  he  received  a  hand-shake  which, 
hardened  as  his  own  hands  were  by  work  in  the  shop,  came 
near  causing  Ensign  to  flinch.  The  man  whose  daughter  he 
had  married  felt  a  very  warm  friendship  for  him  indeed. 

In  comparing  Ensign  with  Annelsey,  as  he  had  naturally 
done  at  times,  when  he  expected  both  would  become  his 
sons-in-law,  he  had  somehow  come  to  regard  him  as  a  kind 
of  hero,  contending  against  odds,  as  he  felt  that  all  men  who 
labored  were  forced  to  do,  and  that  in  choosing  Jennie  for  a 
wife  he  had  allied  himself  with  those  who,  although  giving 
no  outward  sign,  were  yet  half  unconsciously  revolving  in 
their  minds  some  plan  by  which  to  remove  the  wrongs 
beneath  which  they  suffered  and  writhed. 

It  was  true  that  he  had  lost  his  pride  in  possession  and 
with  it  all  confidence  in  himself. 

Without  much  knowledge  of  books,  inclined  by  nature  to 
think  lightly  of  his  own  abilities,  and  having  failed  to  suc- 
cessfully defend  what  he  knew  to  be  his  natural  rights  to  the 
wealth  which  he  had  himself  created,  he  now  felt  that  he  had 
no  right  to  offer  advice  upon  needed  reforms  in  society  or 
the  laws.  But  Ensign  was  young,  he  possessed  cool  courage 
and  a  spirit  that  would  not  allow  him  to  remain  supinely 
inactive  beneath  great  and  continued  wrongs.  Besides  this 
14 


210  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

he  had  a  fair  education,  and,  so  the  girls  said,  had  once  or 
twice  talked  to  his  fellow-workingmen  in  public  upon  ques- 
tions affecting  their  interests,  and  there  had  gradually  grown 
up  in  the  mind  of  John  Parsons  a  feeling  that  Ensign  was  to 
be  instrumental  in  some  way,  perhaps  as  a  leader,  in  righting 
the  wrongs  of  the  people. 

So  long  as  Lucy  had  been  engaged  to  marry  Mr.  Annel- 
sey  these  feelings  had  been  suppressed,  overlaid  as  it  were 
by  a  fear  that  in  encouraging  them  he  was  choosing  between 
his  daughters,  who  were  equally  dear  to  him,  but  he  had  not 
been  able  to  prevent  a  feeling  that  Annelsey,  being  in  sym- 
pathy with  the  cause  of  the  losses  which  he  had  suffered, 
was  in  some  way  partially  responsible  for  them,  as  he  cer- 
tainly was  a  representative  of  the  class  who  were  the  gainers 
by  those  losses,  and  by  the  losses  of  the  thousands  and  mill- 
ions of  other  men  and  women  who  are  doomed  to  toil  all 
their  lives  for  the  wretched  pittance  of  enough  food  and 
clothing,  and  hopes  of  better  times,  to  induce  them  to  con- 
tinue the  work  of  creating  wealth  for  others. 

The  moment,  however,  he  learned  that  Lucy  had  dis- 
missed Mr.  Annelsey,  the  thoughts  which  had  before  been 
but  a  dumb  kind  of  feeling,  kept  under  by  a  knowledge  of 
the  relation  which  the  young  man  was  likely  to  bear  to  the 
family,  began  to  take  shape,  and  once  or  twice,  in  talking 
with  Jennie  of  the  life  which  she  and  her  husband  would 
lead  in  Chicago,  he  had  even  put  these  thoughts  into  words, 
and  now  he  welcomed  the  young  man  not  alone  as  a  son-in- 
law,  but  as  one  who  might  some  day  help  to  right  existing 
wrongs  and  make  the  people  free. 

Ensign  remained  with  the  family  nearly  a  week,  and 
every  day  endeared  himself  more  and  more  to  his  wife's 
parents.  It  was  in  order  that  they  might  become  better 
acquainted  with  him  and  thus  not  feel  that  they  Were  giving 


OR,  JUST    A    C AMPIN  .  211 

their  daughter  to  one  so  nearly  a  stranger  that  he  remained. 
During  his  stay  he  helped  all  he  could  to  put  the  place  in 
better  shape,  and  as  the  rains  did  not  fall  during  the  entire 
week,  the  two  men  were  enabled  to  do  much  towards  mak- 
ing  things  look  more  cheerful. 

A  shed  for  the  horses  was  built  out  of  lumber  bought  for 
that  purpose  by  the  former  owner,  but  never  erected.  The 
broken  places  in  the  fence  were  repaired;  the  grape  vines 
staked  and  tied  up,  and  portions  of  the  over  abundant  growth 
of  fruit  trees  cut  away. 

It  was  really  wonderful,  the  change  which  these  little  im- 
provements made  in  the  look  of  the  place.  But  then  they 
had  the  sun,  and  the  sun  with  a  very  little  assistance  in  the 
way  of  setting  leaning  fences  and  gates  upright  will,  in  a  few 
days,  make  a  great  change  in  any  picture  first  seen  when  wet 
and  sodden  by  long  continued  rains. 

As  the  two  men  worked  they  talked, —  talked  of  the 
wrongs  of  the  farmers  and  the  laboring  and  business  men  of 
the  cities;  of  the  causes  of  so  many  losses  and  so  much 
poverty  and  suffering  and  of  the  possible  or  impossible 
remedies. 

"  There  ought  to  be  a  law  to  prevent  corporations  from 
ownin'  land  they  don't  need  an'  can't  make  no  use  on,  'cept 
to  make  them  that  does  want  to  use  it  pay  for  the  privilege," 
said  Mr.  Parsons,  as  they  were  at  work  repairing  the  fence. 
"  No  man  can't  be  really  free  unless  he  has  a  home  of  his 
own,  and  here  gover'ment  has  gone  an'  give  half  the  State 
to  corporations,  an'  how  is  the  next  gineration  to  git  homes, 
I'd  like  to  know. 

"An*  other  corporations  are  washin'  down  the  mountains 
an'  a  fillin'  up  the  valleys;  spilin'  the  finest  lands;  chokin' 
up  the  river,  an'  destroyin"  the  homes  of  honest  folks  jest  as 
ef  gold  was  of  more  value  than  bread.  I've  tried  hard  to 


212  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

get  somethin"  ahead  agin  old  age  come  a  creepin'  on  to  us, 
and  to  give  the  youngsters  a  start  when  they  left  us,  as  Jen- 
nie is  a  doin'  now,  and  here's  what  it  all  amounts  to;  a  bit 
of  land  not  much  better  than  wild  on  the  side  of  a  moun- 
tain. The  land  God  made,  an'  all  the  improvements  that  is 
on  to  it  never  cost  a  thousand  dollars  when  they  was  new, 
and  that  ain't  as  much  as  my  wife  had  when  I  married  her  ; 
so  we've  got  nothin"  at  all  to  show  fer  a  lifetime  of  hard 
work  an'  savin'. 

"  So  fur  as  we're  concerned,  mother  n'  me  I  mean,  it 
don't  make  much  difference  any  more.  We're  gettin'  old 
and  shan't  last  much  longer;  but  ef  you  an'  Jennie  ain't  no 
luckier  than  we  hev  been,  and  there  ain't  no  change  for  the 
better  in  things,  I'm  afeard  you  won't  have  even  sich  a 
shanty  as  we've  got  to  die  in,  and  your  children  won't  be  no 
better  than  slaves.  Ye  see  it  holds  to  reason  that  ef  things 
don't  git  no  better  they  must  git  wus,  fer  every  year  the  cor- 
porations an'  the  rich  folks  is  a  gittin'  more  an'  more  of  the 
land,  an'  of  everything  else,  an'  the  more  they  git  the  easier 
it  is  to  git  more,  an'  by  an'  by  they'll  hev  it  all,  an'  them  as 
hain't  got  nothin'  an'  can't  get  nothin'  will  hev  to  do  as  they 
say  or  starve." 

"  I  don't  exactly  understand  where  the  wrong  starts,"  re- 
plied Ensign,  "  but  I  know  there  is  a  great  wrong  some- 
where. The  ownership  of  land  by  corporations,  and  by 
others  who  only  wish  to  play  at  dog-in-the-manger,  is  one 
cause  for  the  existing  condition  of  things,  but  there  must  be 
others. 

"  Some  way  or  other  the  larger  portion  of  all  the  wealth 
which  the  people  create  gets  away  from  them  while  they  are 
exchanging  it  among  themselves.  I  don't  know  how,  but  it 
does.  If  it  didn't  there  could  not  possibly  be  rich  people 
who  have  never  worked. 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  213 

"  The  merchant  buys  the  goods  of  the  manufacturer  and 
sells  them  to  those  who  consume  them,  thus  saving  much 
time  which  would  be  wasted  if  each  individual  was  forced  to 
go  to  the  manufacturer  for  every  article  purchased.  The 
merchant  is  therefore  a  valuable  member  of  society — he 
helps  the  producers  to  make  an  exchange  of  wealth,  and  is 
fairly  entitled  to  receive  pay  for  what  he  does!  But  there 
are  the  national  banks,  I  don't  see  how  they  help  any;  and 
every  particle  they  consume  or  hoard  up  is  so  much  taken 
from  the  wealth  which  belongs  to  those  who  produce  it.  It 
seems  to  me  that  those  who  produce  wealth  ought  to  have 
wit  enough  to  devise  some  means  of  exchanging  it  among 
themselves  without  paying  a  bank  for  the  privilege.  And 
every  once  in  a  while  there  comes  a  panic,  and  thousands  of 
business  men  are  ruined,  and  thousands  of  laboring  men 
thrown  out  of  employment,  and  then  they  get  desperate  and 
try  all  kinds  of  sharp  tricks  to  catch  up  again.  Now  if  no- 
body is  benefited  by  these  panics,  some  way  ought  to  be 
devised  to  prevent  them,  and  if  anybody  is  benefited  by 
them  they  are  the  fellows  that  ought  to  be  watched  and 
not  allowed  to  have  any  hand  in  the  making  of  the  laws,  for 
it  is  natural  to  suppose  that  they  would  legislate  in  their  own 
interest  and  not  in  that  of  the  laboring  and  business  portion 
of  the  community. 

"  Then  there  are  the  railroads;  they  get  their  charters 
from  the  people  on  the  plea  of  being  public  highways.  The 
people  build  the  roads  "and  then  the  companies  charge  just 
what  they  choose  for  transporting  the  people  and  their 
goods  from  one  part  of  the  country  to  another,  and  if  it  is 
goods  that  they  transport,  they  usually  take  a  great  deal  more 
of  them  than  they  leave  the  producers,  and  then  bribe  Con- 
gress and  courts  and  State  legislatures  not  to  interfere  with 
them. 


214  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA', 

"And  so  it  goes,  and  I  don't  know  how  to  go  to  work  to 
stop  it." 

"  Wall,"  replied  Mr.  Parsons,  "  you're  on  the  right  track 
anyway,  an'  you  jest  want  to  keep  agoin'  till  you  think  it  all 
out.  What  you  say  about  the  exchangin'  of  wealth  is  sensi- 
ble. It  holds  to  reason  that  there  oughtn't  to  be  nothin' 
thrown  in  the  way  of  folks  exchangin'  wealth.  Them  that 
works  creates  all  the  wealth  there  is,  and  if  they  had  all  the 
land  to  begin  on,  and  weren't  beat  no  way  in  the  exchangin' 
of  what  they  produced,  it's  mighty  clear  that  ef  a  fellow 
didn't  produce  nothin'  er  help  some  way  in  the  exchangin' 
of  what  others  produced,  he  wouldn't  have  anything  to  eat 
very  long.  There  ought  to  be  some  way  discovered  so  that 
them  that  produce  the  wealth  could  trade  among  theirselves 
without  supportin'  a  lot  of  fellers  that  don't  do  nothin'  but 
stan'  around  an'  look  on. 

"  Ef  you  an'  Rastus,  now,  could  be  together  you'd  figger 
it  out  between  you  in  short  meter,  I'll  wager.  I  tell  you, 
Rastus  is  smart,  and  he's  got  the  sand  to  back  it,  an'  ef  any- 
body ever  .goes  to  disturbin*  him  on  his  claim,  there'll  be 
trouble  in  camp  dead  sartin." 

At  last  the  day  came  when  Jennie  and  her  husband  were 
to  take  their  departure. 

The  family  arose  early  and  prepared  breakfast  as  usual, 
but  it  was  with  heavy  hearts  and  eyes  wet  with  tears.  And 
when  it  was  eaten,  Mr.  Parsons  went  out  and  hitched  the 
horses  to  the  spring  wagon  and  drove  around  to  the  door  of 
the  shanty,  and  helped  Ensign  to  lift  in  Jennie's  trunk.  The 
smaller  traveling  bags  followed.  Then  came  the  last  kiss 
and  clasping  in  arms  and  pledges  of  constant  remembrance 
and  love,  over  which  we  willingly  draw  a  vail. 

Who  is  there  that  has  not  witnessed  similar  partings;  part- 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  215 

ings  of  those  whose  happiness  depended  so  much  on  each 
other's  presence,  yet  who  were  forced  by  the  cruel  necessity 
of  hunting  for  dollars  to  tear  themselves  apart,  and  each  go 
separate  ways  with  half  of  the  TOnshine  gone  out  of  their 
lives  ? 

Will  the  time  never  come  when  men  will  understand  what 
the  Teacher  of  men  meant  when  He  said,  "  Take  no  thought 
for  the  morrow"?  And  is  it  not  possible,  by  being  just  to 
each  other,  to  remove  that  constant,  crushing  weight  of  care 
which  comes  from  the  ever-present  necessity  of  taking 
thought  as  to  what  we  shall  eat,  and  what  we  shall  drink, 
and  wherewithal  we  shall  be  clothed  ? 

I  believe  it  will  come;  I  know  that  it  is  entirely  possible. 

When  good-byes  had  been  said,  John  Parsons  drove  the 
young  couple  to  the  Landing,where,  with  tears  coursing  down 
his  cheeks,  he  too,  bid  them  good-bye  and  God  speed,  and 
then,  having  fed  his  horses,  again  hitched  up  and  started 
sadly  homeward. 


2l6  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

JOHN    PARSONS   GIVES   ERASTUS   A    HINT. 

When  the  spring  came,  the  level  ground  about  the  shanty 
on  the  mountain  side  had  been  broken  and  sowed  in  grain, 
or  planted  with  vegetables  ;  the  sloping  ground  above  set  in 
grape  vines,  and  a  hundred  added  fruit  trees  were  putting 
forth  their  buds  and  giving  promise  of  the  future. 

John  Parsons  was  not  so  young  and  spry  as  formerly,  but 
he  was  still  in  good  health,  and  work  was  his  only  escape 
from  thought.  Every  day  when  the  rain  was  anything  less 
than  a  regular  downpour,  he  was  to  be  seen  at  work  some- 
where about  the  premises,  and  Mrs.  Parsons  and  Lucy  lent 
ready  assistance. 

As  the  house  was  small,  the  labor  of  caring  for  it  was 
small  also,  and  on  pleasant  days  one  or  both  of  them  were 
to  be  found  busily  employed  in  the  garden  or  vineyard. 

They  made  few  acquaintances  in  their  new  home.  There 
was  still  no  neighbor  nearer  than  two  miles  away,  and  not 
more  than  a  score  of  families  within  a  circle  easily  reached 
for  a  day's  visit,  and  of  these  a  number  were  foreigners, 
who,  being  unable  to  speak  the  language,  did  not  mingle 
with  their  American  neighbors. 

Occasionally  a  couple  of  women  from  some  of  the  little 
ranches  upon  the  other  side  of  the  mountain  would  come  to 
spend  the  day  at  the  shanty,  but  not  often;  and  although 
pleased  to  have  them  come,  Mrs.  Parsons  and  Lucy  did  not 
always  return  their  visits.  This  was  not  because  they  did 
not  feel  kindly  towards  their  neighbors,  but  because  they  felt 


OR,  JUST    A    C AMPIN  .  217 

little  inclination  to  go  from  home,  and  because  they  were 
busy,  whenever  the  weather  would  admit  of  it,  in  helping 
to  get  the  place  in  shape  to  {produce  a  living  for  the 
family. 

And  so  the  spring  and  the  summer  passed,  and  fall  came 
again. 

They  now  had  an  abundance  of  vegetables;  the  two  cows 
which  they  had  brought  from  the  old  place,  and  which  found 
pasturage  in  the  hollows  of  the  hills,  supplied  them  with  an 
abundance  of  milk  and  butter,  and  even  with  a  small  sur- 
plus to  sell;  and  this,  with  the  chickens  and  turkeys  that 
thrived  so  finely  and  wandered  at  will  up  the  mountain  side 
and  down  the  gorge  at  the  foot  of  the  level  field,  kept  them 
supplied  with  groceries. 

Of  clothing  they  had  a  good  supply  when  they  came,  and 
were  not  obliged  to  purchase,  either  for  garments  or  bedding, 
for  some  time  to  come,  and  so  did  not  suffer  for  anything 
except  from  a  sense  of  their  losses  and  wrongs,  and  for  the 
want  of  companionship. 

They  heard  from  Jennie  and  her  husband  every  few 
weeks.  Ensign  had  been  given  the  place  promised  him. 
They  were  living  in  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  in  a  little  cot- 
tage which  they  had  bought  on  monthly  payments,  and  were 
comfortable  and  happy,  as  young  married  folks  who  are 
blessed  with  good  health  and  plenty  of  faith  in  each  other 
and  the  future,  always  are. 

From  Erastus  they  heard  but  seldom,  but  knew  him  to 
be  at  work  on  his  claim  at  the  Slough. 

Mrs.  Parsons  had  written  him  of  the  destruction  of  the 
old  home,  and  of  their  removal  to  the  new,  soon  after  its 
occurrence,  and  also  of  Jennie's  marriage  to  Ensign  and 
their  removal  to  Chicago. 

Of  Lucy's  breaking  with  Mr.  Annelsey  she  did  not  write, 


2l8  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

thinking  possibly  it  might  not  be  permanent,  in  which  case 
it  would  be  better  for  Erastus,  if  still  feeling  attached  to 
Lucy,  not  to  have  his  hopes  raised  to  be  again  dashed  to  the 
ground. 

Mr.  Annelsey,  however,  did  not  plead  very  earnestly  with 
Lucy  to  reconsider  her  action  in  dismissing  him.  It  was 
several  weeks  before  his  reply  came;  and  then,  while  he  ex- 
pressed regret  at  her  decision,  he  did  not  urge  her  very 
strongly  to  reverse  it.  Knowing  that  his  parents  would 
oppose  his  marriage  with  a  poor  girl,  he  had  not  informed 
them  of  his  engagement,  and  no  comments  would  therefore 
be  made  at  its  being  annulled ;  a  fact  upon  which  he  now 
congratulated  himself. 

He  had  already  begun  to  feel  his  affection  for  Lucy 
weaken  with  absence;  was,  in  fact,  becoming  enamored  of 
another  young  lady  in  whose  society  he  had  frequently  been 
thrown  since  his  return  to  New  York,  and  whose  position  in 
wealth  was  equal  to  his  own ;  and  although  he  told  himself 
that  Lucy's  letter  had  broken  his  heart,  it  is  probable  that 
lifter  the  shock  to  his  self-esteem  was  over,  he  was  rather 
glad  than  otherwise. 

If  Lucy  expected  or  desired  a  more  vehement  protesta- 
tion of  love  from  her  discarded  suitor  than  she  received,  her 
manner  upon  opening  his  letter  did  not  reveal  it. 

She  read  the  letter  in  the  presence  of  the  family,  and  then 
calmly  handed  it  to  her  mother.  The  next  day  she  replied 
to  it,  reiterating  her  desire  to  be  free  from  their  engagement 
and  asking  the  return  of  her  letters. 

"  I  shall  send  yours,  together  with  the  ring  and  other 
jewelry,  by  the  same  mail  that  takes  this  letter,"  she  wrote 
him,  and  having  sealed  it  and  seen  it,  in  company  with  the 
package,  safely  on  its  way  to  the  office,  she  went  about  her 
usual  duties  with  a  cheerful,  even  merry  air,  which  was  a 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  219 

great  source  of  comfort  to  her  parents,  and  of  especial  satis- 
faction to  her  father. 

"  Ef  Rastus  'ud  only  come  back  now  it  'ud  be  all  right," 
he  mused,  and  feeling  certain  that  the  young  man's  affection 
for  Lucy  had  jiot  waned  because  of  absence,  fully  expected 
him  to  come  back  and  ask  her  to  be  his  wife. 

For  this  he  waited  with  impatience,  wondering  at  Erastus' 
delay  and  inventing  excuses  for  it. 

"  'Spect  the  poor  fellow  hasn't  jest  got  the  money  by  him 
to  come  on,"  he  said  to  himself. 

And  then  again,  "  Maybe  he's  a  puttin'  in  his  crop  an' 
wants  to  finish  so  it  will  be  growin'  while  he's  gone."  Or, 
"  like  enough,  he's  a-workin'  for  somebody  else  for  a  spell  an' 
can't  honorably  get  off  right  away." 

But  as  the  weeks  passed  into  months  and  the  only  evi- 
dence that  Erastus  had  not  forgotten  them  was  a  letter 
expressing  his  sorrow  at  the  loss  of  their  home,  and  a  hope 
that  he  might  some  time  assist  them  if  they  should  require  it, 
but  never  a  word  about  Lucy  or  any  intention  of  visiting  the 
family,  all  hope  of  seeing  Lucy  married  to  the  man  whom  he 
loved  as  a  son  and  respected  for  his  manly  qualities  began  to 
die  out  of  John  Parsons'  bosom. 

"  Rastus  was  always  awful  proud,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"an'  I  reckon  he  can't  get  over  the  girl's  preferrin'  of  that 
young  jackanapes  to  him  in  the  first  place." 

He  still  supposed  that  Mrs.  Parsons  had  written  Erastus 
of  Lucy's  dismissal  of  Annelsey,  and  it  was  not  until  months 
had  passed  and  summer  was  giving  place  to  fall  that  he 
learned  differently. 

He  had  never  mentioned  his  hope  that  the  young  folks 
would  "  make  up"  to  anyone. 

Erastus  knew  that  Lucy  was  with  her  parents,  but  sup- 
posed her  only  waiting  for  her  affianced  to  come  and  claim 


220  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

her,  and  so  worked  on,  striving  to  conquer  his  love  but  never 
succeeding,  even  for  a  moment. 

And  Lucy,  although  knowing  that  she  loved  Erastus,  had 
always  loved  him,  either  supposed  that  he  knew  of  her  broken 
engagement,  and  knowing  it,  was  silent  because  he  had  no 
love  for  her,  or,  if  she  suspected  that  he  did  not  know,  was 
restrained  by  maidenly  reserve  from  taking  any  steps  to 
acquaint  him  with  the  fact. 

One  day  Mrs.  Parsons  was  helping  her  husband  in  the 
garden,  when  something  was  said  about  Erastus. 

"I  wonder,"  remarked  Mrs.  Parsons,  "what  he  is  doing 
now  ?  It  is  a  good  while  since  we  heard  from  him.  I  wish 
I  knew  how  he  is  getting  along.  Poor  boy,  he  must  have  a 
hard  time  of  it  with  no  one  to  keep  his  clothes  in  order  or  do 
a  thing  for  him.  I  wonder  if  he  ever  thinks  of  getting  mar- 
ried? 

"Of  course  he  must,"  she  added,  answering  her  own 
question;  "he  has  got  a  little  start  by  this  time  and  every 
young  man  on  a  farm  needs  a  wife.  I  hope  he  will  get  a 
good  one  when  he  does  marry." 

John  Parsons  gave  his  clothes  a  little  hitch,  a  habit  he  had 
when  at  a  loss  for  a  word.  Then  turning  his  back  to  his 
wife  and  putting  an  extra  bit  of  force  into  the  hoe  he  was 
using,  said  : 

"  I  had  sort  o'  thought  maybe  he  an'  Lucy  'd  make  up, 
now  Annelsey's  out  o'  the  way,  but  it  seems  they  don't. 
'Pears  like  Rastus  is  too  proud  to  take  up  with  bein'  second 
choice,  though  I  don't  b'lieve  the  girl  ever  cared  half  as 
much  for  that  ar  popenjay  Annelsey  as  she  did  for  him, 
even  if  she  did  promise  to  marry  him.  I  wish  she'd  write  to 
Rastus  and  tell  him  so.  I  know  that  'ud  fetch  him.  Ras 
ain't  the  fellow  to  get  over  that  kind  of  a  thing  in  a  hurry, 
and  I  know  he  loved  her  desprit,  an'  it  seems  no  more'n  fair 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  221 

that  she  should  take  the  first  step  towards  makin'  up,  under 
the  circumstances." 

His  manner  of  saying  this  showed  that  he  intended  it  to 
be  an  argument  too  strong  for  his  wife  to  rebut,  showing  rea- 
son why  Lucy  could,  and  should,  let  Erastus  know  that  she 
had  changed  her  mind  and  was  ready  to  marry  him  if  he 
still  desired  it. 

When  he  paused  he  felt  that  he  had  not  made  the  case  as 
strong  as  it  should  be,  but  not  knowing  exactly  how  to  make 
it  stronger  he  waited  for  a  reply  from  his  wife,  still  keeping 
his  back  towards  her  and  his  hoe  going  vigorously. 

But  Mrs.  Parsons  knew  that  her  husband  had  not 
finished  what  he  wished  to  say,  and  she  remained  silent. 
Pretty  soon  he  began  again. 

"  You  see,  Marty,  it  holds  to  reason  that  Lucy  should  be 
the  one  to  speak  first.  Rastus  loved  her,  an"  she  knew  it; 
leastwise  he  thought  she  did;  an'  knowing  it  she  went  an' 
engaged  herself  to  that  ar  fellow  from  New  York  an'  so 
gave  Ras  to  think  she  wouldn't  have  him  no  way  it  could 
be  fixed.  So  he  went  off  to  git  away  from  the  sight  of  'em. 
An'  now,  though  knowin'  that  Annelsey's  got  his  walkin' 
papers,  he  don't  know  as  Lucy  'd  have  him  no  more'n  she 
would  afore;  an'  Ras  ain't  the  kind  as  goes  spoonin'  round 
beggin'  for  what  folks  don't  want  to  give  him.  It  ain't  right, 
an'  it  ain't  fair,  when  I  know  the  girl  'ud  give  everything  she's 
got  in  the  world  to  have  him  back,  that  they  should  be  kept 
apart  jest  because  it's  customary  for  the  man  to  speak  first. 
He  has  spoke  first  once  an'  now  it's  her  turn." 

All  the  time  John  was  speaking  Martha  Parsons  was 
thinking.  She  believed  that  Lucy  loved  Erastus  and  was 
secretly  in  hopes  that  he  would  yet  return  to  her,  but  she  was 
not  sure,  and  she  saw  the  delicacy  of  the  situation  more 
clearly  than  did  her  husband,  who  had  never  been  able  to 


222  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

discover  any  necessity  for  the  concealment  of  the  true  feel- 
ings of  either  party  to  a  love  affair. 

When  her  husband  had  ceased  speaking  she  was  silent 
for  a  moment  and  then  said  simply: 

"Are  you  sure  Erastus  knows  that  Lucy  has  broken  with 
Mr.  Annelsey?" 

John  Parsons  suddenly  stopped  hoeing  and  turned  quickly 
around  facing  his  wife. 

"  Didn't  you  write  him  that,  when  the  girls  first  come 
home  ? "  he  asked  in  surprise. 

"No,  I  did  not;  I  was  not  certain  that  she  cared  for  him 
and  feared  to  awaken  anew,  hopes  that,  after  all,  might  be 
useless.  It  was  not  certain  that  Lucy's  engagement  with 
Annelsey  might  not  be  renewed,  or  that  because  she  dis- 
missed him  she  loved  Erastus,  and  I  thought  it  best  to  let 
him  learn  of  it  by  accident.  I  supposed  he  would  find  it  out 
through  Jennie  or  someone  else,  but  I  do  not  think  he  has." 

Her  husband  made  no  reply  but  resumed  his  hoeing  and 
the  subject  was  not  referred  to  again.  Indeed  very  little  fur- 
ther conversation  occurred  between  them  during  the  entire 
afternoon,  both  appearing  busy  with  their  own  thoughts. 

At  the  supper  table  that  evening  Mr.  Parsons  proposed 
that  the  two  women  should  go  to  town  the  next  day  with 
some  butter  and  eggs  and  such  other  articles  as  they  could 
spare,  and  make  an  exchange  for  family  supplies. 

"Johnny  and  me'll  keep  house  while  you're  gone,"  he 
said;  "we're  capital  at  keepin'  house,  ain't  we,  Johnny?  And 
mother'll  bring  you  some  candy  or  somethin'." 

There  was  nothing  very  unusual  in  this  proposition.  Mrs. 
Parsons  and  Lucy  had  made  similar  trips  on  several  occasions, 
leaving  Johnny  and  his  father  at  home. 

John  Parsons  hated  to  "peddle,"  as  he  called  it,  and  his 
wife  always  got  better  prices  for  the  butter  and  eggs  and 


OR,  JUST    A   CAMPIN  .  223 

chickens  than  did  he;  besides  which  she  knew  better  how  to 
invest  the  proceeds  economically  in  necessities  for  the  family, 
and  there  was  need  of  economy  now.  And  as  neither  of  the 
women  liked  either  to  go  to  town  alone,  or  to  stay  alone  with 
Johnny  while  the  other  went  with  the  husband  or  father,  it 
had  become  the  rule  for  both  to  go  and  leave  Johnny  to  the 
care  of  his  father,  and  so  they  decided  to  do  now.  Accord- 
ingly such  vegetables  as  they  were  to  take  were  gathered  and 
placed  in  the  spring  wagon.  A  hunt  was  made  for  eggs, 
which  were  carefully  packed,  small  end  down,  in  oats,  to  pre- 
vent their  breaking,  and  the  bit  of  butter  which  they  had 
saved  was  taken  from  the  well  where  it  hung  by  a  rope,  and 
rewrapped  in  white  cloths. 

When  it  became  dark  they  went  with  a  lantern  and  caught 
two  dozen  chickens  and  put  them  in  a  crate,  previously  made 
and  kept  in  which  to  take  fowls  to  market ;  and  bright  and 
early  the  next  morning  the  horses  were  hitched  up  and  they 
started. 

When  they  were  gone,  John  Parsons  washed  the  dishes, 
which  the  women  had  not  stopped  to  do,  tidied  up  the  house 
the  best  he  knew  how,  talking  to  Johnny  all  the  time,  and 
then  went  into  the  garden  to  work,  taking  the  boy  with  him, 
as  was  his  almost  invariable  custom  when  the  weather  was 
fine,  and  placing  him,  in  his  wheeled  cot,  where  they  could 
talk  together  as  the  father  worked. 

The  fresh  air  and  sunshine  did  the  child  good  and  he 
amused  himself  in  many  ways  The  chickens  and  turkeys 
learned  to  regard  him  as  a  friend  and  would  come  around 
him,  often  jumping  upon  his  cot  for  some  bit  of  food  which 
he  had  brought,  some  of  them  becoming  so  tame  as  to  permit 
him  to  handle  them. 

When  noon  came  the  man  and  boy  returned  to  the  house, 
where  the  father  prepared  and  they  ate  dinner.  Then,  when 


224  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

the  dishes  had  been  washed  and  Johnny  had  dropped  off  to 
sleep,  as  he  always  did  after  dinner  in  the  long  days,  John, 
Sen.,  went  to  the  bureau  and  rummaged  around  until  he 
found  some  writing  paper  and  finally  a  pen  and  a  bottle  of 
ink. 

These  he  brought  to  the  table,  drew  up  a  chair  and  sat 
down. 

"I'll  jest  give  Rastus  a  hint,"  he  was  saying  to  himself, 
"an'  if  he's  still  of  the  same  mind  as  he  used  to  be,  he'll  be 
here  in  less'n  two  weeks  an'  mother  an'  Lucy'll  never  know 
what  fetched  him. 

"Wimin's  curis  about  some  things;  I  never  did  under- 
stand 'em  very  well.  There's  Marty,  now;  best  woman  livin', 
tender  hearted  as  a  chicken,  an'  Lucy's  jest  like  her;  but 
they're  a-lettin'  Rastus  an'  her  break  their  hearts  fer  each 
other  rather  than  to  speak  up  an'  tell  him  how  the  land  lays; 
but  I  ain't  goin'  to  'low  it." 

He  dipped  the  pen  in  ink  and  then  let  it  slip  through  his 
fingers  and  make  a  great  blotch  on  the  white  table  cloth. 

This  was  unfortunate;  it  would  be  a  tell-tale  spot  inform- 
ing the  women  of  what  he  had  been  doing  in  their  absence. 

He  arose  and  wet  the  dish  rag  and  tried  to  remove  the  ink 
spot,  but  only  succeeded  in  making  it  larger.  Finally  he  car- 
ried the  pen,  ink  and  paper  to  the  bureau,  took  off  the  table 
cloth  and  hung  it  in  the  window  to  dry,  brought  back  the 
writing  materials  and  again  sat  down  to  his  task. 

It  was  a  long  time  since  he  had  written  a  letter;  he  tried 
to  think  how  long,  and  could  not  remember  of  having  done 
so  since  the  family  came  to  the  coast.  Erastus  was  a  toler- 
able penman,  and  good  at  composing,  and  had,  at  Mr.  Par- 
sons' request,  written  the  few  business  letters  that  there  had 
been  a  necessity  for,  and  since  he  had  left,  there  had  been 
no  business  letters  to  write,  and  until  now  John  Parsons  had 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  225 

contented  himself  with  simply  sending  his  love  or  supplying 
some  bit  of  news  for  Lucy  or  her  mother,  .when  they  wrote  to 
either  of  the  absent  ones  on  family  affairs. 

But  now  he  had  an  object  to  accomplish  and  must  write, 
and  he  squared  himself  to  the  task. 

Again  he  dipped  the  pen  in  ink,  but  discovered  that  he 
had  forgotten  the  day  of  the  month  and  got  up  and  consulted 
the  almanac  which  always  hung  on  a  nail,  driven  into  the 
window  casing  near  the  clock. 

When  he  had  the  date  safely  down  he  began: 
"  DEAR  RASTUS: 

"  Yer  mother  and  Lucy  hav  gon  to  town  with  some 
chickens  and  things  and  are  goin  to  bring  back  some  gro- 
ceries. 

"  Lucy  aint  a  goin  to  marry  Mr.  Annelsey  after  all;  she's 
give  him  his  walkin  papers  fer  good. 

"  We  are  gittin  long  purty  well  considerin,  though  this 
place  aint  quite  so  comfortable  and  nice  as  the  old  one  was. 
There  aint  no  young  folks  around  here  much,  and  Lucy  dont 
act  like  she  wanted  to  hav  anything  to  do  with  any  of  the 
young  fellers  that  does  come.  Hadn't  you  better  come  home 
and  make  us  a  visit.  Your  mother  and  me  wants  to  see  you 
awful  bad  and  so  does  Lucy;  leastwise  I  think  she  does. 

"  We're  gittin  the  place  fixed  up  some  better  than  it  was 
when  we  came  here.  Built  a  porch  over  the  front  door  last 
week  and  the  wimen  has  set  out  some  rose  bushes  on  both 
sides  of  it;  you  know  Lucy  always  was  terrible  fond  of  roses. 

"Johnny  is  bout  the  same  as  when  you  left.  He  and  I  hav 
been  at  work  in  the  garden  this  forenoon,  but  he's  asleep  now 
thats  the  reason  I'm  writin'  you.  You  see  I  dont  want  the 
wimen  to  know  it,  they  are  so  awful  curis  about  such  things. 
I  spect  Lucy  ud  think  it  wasn't  proper  if  she  knew  it.  I 
reckon  she  thinks  you  cant  never  forgive  her,  er  love  her 
15 


226  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

any  more,  cause  she  went  and  engaged  herself  to  that  feller 
Annelsey,  fore  she  knew  what  she  wanted.  You  see  a  woman 
thinks  she  mus'n't  chirp  even  ef  her  heart  is  a  breakin. 

"Wall,  they'll  be  comin  back  fore  long  an  I  must  quit 
writin  and  get  ready  for  em.  •  When  you  come  up  you 
needn't  say  anything  to  Lucy  or  mother  bout  my  havin  writ 
to  you,  cause  you  see  it  wont  do  em  any  good  to  know  it,  an 
Lucy  might  not  like  it;  might  think  you  come  out  of  pity  fer 
her  er  somethin.  They're  awful  curis  critters,  wimen  is. 

"  This  from  yours  affectionately, 

"JOHN  PARSONS." 

He  read  the  letter  over  slowly  and  carefully,  and  then 
added: 

"  P.  S.  It  was  Lucy's  doins  breakin  off  with  Annelsey,  an 
I  dont  see  why  she  should  have  done  it  ef  she  hadn't  loved 
somebody  else  better." 

The  letter  finished,  he  sealed  it  up,  directed  it  and  placed 
it  in  the  inside  pocket  of  his  vest. 

He  had  yet  to  get  it  to  the  post-office  without  the  know- 
ledge of  the  family,  and  he  was  at  some  loss  to  know  how  to 
accomplish  this,  as  it  was  fifteen  miles  to  the  Landing,  and  he 
could  think  of  no  excuse  for  going  there  immediately  after 
his  wife  and  Lucy  had  purchased  all  needed  family  supplies; 
but  he  determined  to  bring  it  about  somehow.  "Maybe 
they'll  forget  something,"  he  said,  mentally,  as  he  replaced 
the  pen  and  ink  in  the  bureau.  "I  hope  they  will;  ef  they 
do  I'll  jest  lope  a  horse  an'  ride  over  there  to-morrow  an' 
mail  this  letter,  fer  I'm  bound  to  give  'Rastus  a  hint  of  how 
the  lead  runs." 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  227 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE   LOVERS'    MEETING. 

Although  having  said,  in  his  letter  to  Erastus,  that  he 
expected  his  wife  and  daughter  soon  and  must  prepare  for 
their  coming,  John  Parsons  did  not  really  look  for  them  yet 
for  some  hours. 

It  was  fifteen  miles  to  Phippsburg  over  a  hilly  road,  and 
it  required  the  whole  of  a  long  day  to  make  the  trip,  dispose 
of  the  articles  taken,  and  return;  and  it  was  not  yet  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon  when  the  letter  was  finished.  Yet 
John  Parsons  had  no  intention  of  telling  a  falsehood.  Liars 
and  cowards  were  his  especial  detestation,  and  this  slip  of  his 
from  the  path  of  truthfulness,  like  nine-tenths  of  the  white 
lies  so  common  among  all  classes,  was  the  result  of  an 
inability  to  readily  command  language  in  which  to  express 
his  thoughts. 

He  had  given  the  "  hint "  which  was  the  purpose  of  his 
writing,  and  could  think  of  no  proper  way  in  which  to  close 
his  letter  and  at  the  same  time  tell  Erastus  not  to  mention, 
to  Lucy  or  to  Mrs.  Parsons,  the  fact  of  his  having  been 
written  to.  The  whole  affair  was  intended  to  be  a  fine 
stroke  of  diplomacy  by  which  the  father  hoped  to  reunite 
those  whom  he  loved,  and  whom  he  believed  were  warmly 
attached  to  each  other,  without  wounding  the  modesty  and 
self-respect  of  his  daughter. 

It  was  dusk  when  Mrs.  Parsons  and  Lucy  returned. 

The  husband  and  father  met  them  at  the  gate  which 
opened  into  the  enclosure  where  the  shanty  stood,  and 


228  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

kissed  as  he  helped  them,  dusty  and  tired,  to  descend  from 
the  wagon.  Then  he  handed  out  the  bundles  and  packages 
which  they  had  purchased,  after  which  he  cared  for  the 
horses  while  the  women  entered  the  house. 

They  found  the  fire  burning  brightly,  the  tea-kettle  sim- 
mering on  the  stove,  and  the  table  set.  The  ink-spot  on  the 
table  cloth  was  not  visible,  for  it  had  been  carefully  covered 
with  a  broad  dish;  and  if  Mrs.  Parsons  noticed  it  when  she 
removed  the  cloth  and  shook  out  the  crumbs  that  evening, 
she  was  wise  enough  not  to  mention  it,  and  in  the  morning 
a  clean  one  was  substituted  and  the  stained  cloth  thrown  into 
the  wash. 

Johnny  was  of  course  anxious  to  see  the  various  pack- 
ages unwrapped,  but  was  persuaded  to  defer  seeing  all  except 
the  articles  purchased  especially  for  him,  until  they  had 
eaten  and  cleared  off  the  table,  when  they  would  all  take  a 
look  at  them. 

As  the  family  sat  at  supper  they  talked  of  the  day's 
journey,  the  prices  received  for  chickens  and  eggs  and 
vegetables,  and  what  they  had  purchased  with  the  proceeds; 
of  what  those  who  remained  at  home  had  done,  and  of  what 
they  would  do  with  the  money  to  be  obtained  from  the  next 
bit  of  produce  which  they  would  have  to  spare. 

"Just  as  soon  as  possible  we  must  put  up  the  addition  to 
the  house  of  which  we  have  been  talking,"  said  Mrs.  Par- 
sons. "  It  won't  cost  much,  and  will  add  more  to  our  com- 
fort than  anything  else  we  could  get  'with  that  amount  of 
money." 

"  Did  you  ask  the  price  of  lumber  at  the  Landing?"  asked 
her  husband. 

"  Why,  no  ;  I  did  not  suppose  we  could  buy  it  now,  and 
so  did  not  think  to  ask." 

"  Well,  I  d'know  ;  we've  got  a  few  dollars  laid  up  now, 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  229 

and  by  sellin'  the  calves  we  might  scrape  up  enough  to  buy 
the  lumber  and  get  it  home  before  the  rains  set  in.  The 
roads  '11  be  too  bad  for  haulin'  after  that.  If  we  had  the 
lumber  home,  then  we'd  get  the  nails  and  other  things  along 
as  we  wus  able,  and  I  could  do  the  work  myself  durin'  a 
clear  spell  in  the  winter." 

'•  But  can  we  sell  the  calves  for  a  fair  price  ?  Who  is 
there  to  buy  them  ?  " 

"  Bob  Meeker,  over  on  t'other  side  o'  the  mountain  'bout 
four  miles,  said  the  other  day  he'd  buy  'em,  an'  pay  cash,  ef 
I'd  bring  'em  over  any  time  within  a  week.  I  guess  we'd 
better  let  him  have  'em  an'  git  the  lumber.  It'll  be  mighty 
unpleasant  bein'  cooped  up  here  all  through  the  wet  season 
agin',  an'  ef  we  had  the  lumber  I'd  manage  the  rest  of  it 
some  way." 

So  it  was  decided  to  sell  the  calves  and  buy  the  lumber 
for  an  addition  to  the  shanty,  and  the  next  day  John  Par- 
sons took  them  over  to  Mr.  Meeker  and  got  the  money  for 
them. 

On  the  way  home  he  stopped  at  another  neighbor's  and 
borrowed  a  heavy  wagon,  and  the  day  following  started  to 
town  bright  and  early  with  the  letter  to  Erastus  still  carefully 
concealed  in  his  inside  pocket. 

"  Bet  that'll  fetch  him  home  on  a  run,"  he  mused  as  he 
dropped  it  into  the  office  at  the  Landing  just  in  time  to  have 
it  get  into  the  mail  bag  as  it  was  being  got  ready  for  the 
down  boat.  "  He'll  be  here  in  a  week  ef  that  letter  goes 
straight,  er  else  he  ain't  as  good  at  takin'  a  hint  as  I  think 
he  is." 

Mrs.  Parsons  noticed  that  her  husband  was  unusually 
jolly  that  night  when  he  returned  home,  and  all  the  next 
day  and  the  days  that  followed  after  it. 

He  had  always  tried  to  appear  cheerful  in  the  presence  of 


230  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

his  family,  and  had  never  failed  to  respond  to  any  effort  ot 
Johnny's  to  get  up  a  laugh,  though  it  often  caused  him  an 
effort  to  do  so;  but  on  this  particular  evening,  although  it 
was  late  and  he  must  have  been  tired,  he  really  felt  jolly, 
and  he  joked  Lucy  about  one  of  the  clerks  at  the  store, 
where  she  and  her  mother  had  traded  when  in  town,  and 
also  about  a  neighbor's  son,  who  had  shown  a  disposition  to 
seek  her  society,  but  who,  not  receiving  any  encouragement, 
had  decided  that  she  was  "  stuck  up,"  and  so  informed  the^ 
other  young  people  of  his  acquaintance. 

The  letter  was  three  days  in  reaching  its  destination, 
and  then  lay  in  the  post  office  several  days  more  before 
being  called  for. 

Erastus  had  no  correspondents  other  than  the  members 
of  Mr.  Parsons'  family ;  and  as  there  had  been  little  that 
was  pleasant  to  write  about  on  either  side,  letters  had  not 
been  frequent  between  them  of  late,  and  the  young  man 
seldom  went  to  the  post  office. 

One  day  as  he  was  working  with  several  of  his  neighbors 
upon  a  ditch  which  was  to  be  the  means  of  irrigating  their 
claims,  another  neighbor,  who  had  been  to  town,  rode  up 
and,  stopping  his  horse,  called  out: 

"  Here,  Hemmingway;  here's  a  letter  for  you." 

Erastus  was  in  his  shirt  sleeves  in  the  ditch,  shoveling, 
and  the  horseman  leaned  from  his  saddle  and  handed  him 
the  letter. 

"  If  that's  from  your  girl,  she  don't  write  a  very  purty 
hand,"  he  said,  with  a  wink  at  the  other  ditchers,  who  had 
stopped  work  and  stood  leaning  on  their  spades. 

Glancing  at  the  superscription,  Erastus  saw  that  it  was  in 
a  strange  hand.  The  post  mark,  however,  proclaimed  it  to 
be  from  Phippsburg,  and  his  first  thought  was  that  some- 
thing terrible  had  again  happened  to  Uncle  John  and  his 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMP1N  .  231 

family — that  they  were  all  dead,  may  be,  and  a  stranger  had 
written  to  inform  him. 

Hastily  tearing  off  the  envelope,  he  looked  at  the  signa- 
ture and  saw  the  name,  "John  Parsons,"  in  stiff,  awkward 
letters,  at  the  bottom  of  the  page,  and  it  flashed  over  him 
that  Lucy  was  married  and  that  Uncle  John  had  written  to 
tell  him  of  it  because  no  one  else  liked  to  do  so,  and  the 
blood  rushed  to  his  heart,  which  beat  so  that  it  seemed 
his  companions  must  hear  it. 

But  no;  the  letter  said,  "Lucy  and  her  mother  had  gone 
to  town." 

Then  she  was  not  married  yet.  The  blood  began  to 
return  to  its  proper  channels. 

"  Lucy  has  given  Annelsey  his  walkin'  papers." 

Could  it  be  possible  that  she  was  not  going  to  marry  the 
New  Yorker  after  all! 

And  if  not,  what  then  ? 

The  letter  seemed  plain  enough  to  be  understood  with- 
out possibility  of  mistake,  yet  he  read  it  the  second  time 
before  its  full  import  came  to  him,  and  then  the  blood  rushed 
to  his  heart  even  more  violently  than  before. 

"  Lucy  might  be  his  yet — that  is  what  Uncle  John  meant," 
he  said  to  himself.  "If  she  had  not  loved  someone  else 
better  she  would  not  have  dismissed  Annelsey."  And  "sh6 
did  not  encourage  any  of  the  young  men  there" — that  was 
what  the  letter  said,  and  it  said  he  was  to  come  at  once. 

He  had  climbed  out  of  the  ditch  and  was  brushing  the 
dirt  from  his  overalls  with  his  hands. 

"Mr.  Johnson,"  he  said,  addressing  the  neighbor  with 
whom  he  boarded,  "  will  you  let  me  have  your  roan  horse  for 
a  couple  of  weeks  and  use  my  colts  while  I'm  gone?  I'm 
going  home  and  want  to  make  the  trip  as  quickly  as  possi- 
ble, and  neither  of  the  colts  can  stand  a  hard  jaunt  under  the 


COULD   IT   BE   POSSIBLE    THAT    SHE    WAS    NOT    GOING   TO   MARRY    THE 
NEW   YORKER   AFTER   ALL  ! 


232 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  233 

saddle  very  well.  I'll  take  good  care  of  the  roan  and  pro- 
mise not  to  hurt  him.  If  I  do  you  may  take  your  choice  of 
the  colts  to  pay  the  damage." 

"What's  up?" 

"  Folks  sick  ?" 

"  Why  don't  you  go  to  'Frisco  and  then  take  the  steamer  ?" 
came  from  one  and  another  of  the  crowd. 

"The  fact  is,"  replied  Erastus,  with  his  usual  straight- 
forward honesty,  "  I  have  not  got  money  enough.  You  fel- 
lows knov  how  it  is  yourselves.  Money  don't  grow  on  these 
sand  ridges  until  they  are  irrigated;  but  I  can  ride  through 
in  four  days  by  traveling  late  and  early  and  resting  in  the 
hottest  part  of  the  day.,  and  not  hurt  the  horse  a  bit  if  Mr. 
Johnson  will  let. me  have  him,  and  it  won't  cost  half  as  much 
as  it  will  to  go  by  the  cars  and  boat." 

"You  can  have  the  horse  if  you  want  him,"  replied  Mr. 
Johnson.  "  I  know  you  won't  hurt  him;  but  you  haven't  told 
us  yet  who  is  sick  or  dead." 

"There's  no  one  sick  or  dead,  boys;  but  I'm  going,  and 
going  to  start  to-night." 

"Girl  run  away  with  another  fellow5"  asked  one  of  the 
men,  with  a  grin. 

"No,  my  girl  hasn't  run  away  with  another  fellow," 
replied  the  young  man,  with  a  laugh  that  some  way  reminded 
him  of  what  he  had  often  called  the  "giggling"  of  the 
girls. 

How  could  he  help  it  when  reminded  so  forcibly  of  what, 
up  to  the  moment,  he  hardly  realized;  that  instead  of  run- 
ning away  with  another  fellow  as  he  had  expected  her  to  do, 
his  girl  had  dismissed  the  other  fellow  because  of  her  love 
for  him. 

The  rough  joke  sounded  irresistibly  funny,  and  withal 
brought  such  a  delightfully  warm  feeling  to  his  heart  that  it 


234  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

is  no  wonder  he  laughed,  or  that  the  laugh  was  just  a  trifle 
hysterical. 

What  a  terrible  mistake  there  had  been.  What  a  wretch 
he  was  not  to  have  spoken  up  when  Annelsey  first  came 
courting  Lucy,  and  so  have  saved  all  this  suffering. 

How  tender  his  heart  grew,  thinking  of  her  who  had  suf- 
fered so, — who  must  have  suffered  so  terribly  all  this  time. 

Such  were  the  thoughts  that  passed  through  the  young 
man's  mind  as  he  walked  rapidly  towards  his  boarding  place. 

But  what  if  Uncle  John  was  mistaken  ? 

He  was  half-way  to  the  house  when  this  thought  came  to 
him,  and  he  stopped  and  stood  perfectly  still  for  some  sec- 
onds, but  not  stiller  than  his  heart  se»med  to  have  become. 

"At  any  rate  I'll  know  the  truth,"  he  said  aloud,  and  then 
mentally,  "I  played  the  coward  once,  I'll  not  do  it  again. 
Uncle  John  certainly  meant  me  to  understand  that  Lucy 
loved  me  well  enough  to  be  my  wife,  and  I  would  be  a  cra- 
ven indeed  not  to  ask  herself  now." 

Going  directly  to  the  shed  where  the  roan  horse  stood, 
he  groomed  him  carefully,  then  went  to  the  house  and  to  the 
low  room  up-stairs  where  he  slept. 

Here  he  bathed  and  changed  into  his  best  suit,  being 
careful  to  see  that  the  few  dollars  in  money  which  .he  pos- 
sessed were  in  his  pocket  book  and  in  his  pocket. 

Meantime  Mr.  Johnson  had  left  the  ditch  and  gone  to  the 
little  patch  of  ground  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  which  his 
wife  cultivated  as  a  garden,  where  he  knew  her  to  be  at  work. 

When  told  that  Erastus  was  going  on  a  visit  to  his  old 
home  and  would  start  at  once,  Mrs.  Johnson  hurried  to  the 
house  and  began  preparing  a  meal  before  he  should  go. 

Neither  of  them  asked  the  young  man  any  questions  as 
to  the  cause  of  his  sudden  going,  but  both  guessed  that  it  was 
in  some  way  connected  with  a  love  affair  and  were  anxious 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  235 

to  assist  him  in  every  way  possible.  Mr.  Johnson  offered  to 
loan  him  all  the  money  he  had,  which  was  less  than  two  dol- 
lars, and  Mrs.  Johnson  fluttered  around,  trying  to  get  some- 
thing a  little  extra  for  him  to  eat,  helping  him  with  his  neck- 
tie, and  offering  to  do  a  dozen  other  things  as  if  he  had  sud- 
denly become  a  child,  or  what  appeared  more  likely — was 
going  to  see  his  sweetheart,  if  not,  indeed,  to  get  married. 
And  all  the  time  she  was  trying  not  to  say  anything  that 
would  show  how  very  anxious  she  was  to  have  him  confide 
in  her,  yet  hoping  greatly  that  he  would  do  so. 

Erastus,  in  the  first  flush  of  his  new  found  joy,  was  only 
restrained  from  showing  Mr.  Parsons'  letter  and  making  a 
clean  breast  of  the  whole  affair  by  a  lingering  fear  that  Unclev 
John  might  be  mistaken. 

It  was  really  very  hard  for  him  to  keep  from  telling.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Johnson  were  the  best  friends  he  had  here  at  the 
Slough,  and  he  knew  they  thought  a  great  deal  of  him,  and 
he  wanted  to  tell  them  what  a  lovely  girl  Lucy  was,  but  could 
not  quite  bring  himself  to  do  so  even  when  Mrs.  Johnson 
remarked,  as  she  fixed  his  necktie,  that  she  "supposed  he 
would  soon  have  someone  else  to  do  it  for  him  now,"  and  so 
he  left  them  wholly  in  doubt,  and  mounting  the  roan  rode 
away  in  the  direction  of  the  foot-hills  of  the  Sierras. 

He  curbed  his  own  impatience  and  the  desire  of  the 
spirited  roan  at  the  start,  well  knowing  that  time  would  be 
lost  and  not  gained  by  fast  riding  for  the  first  hour  or 
two. 

The  sun  had  long  since  set,  when  having  put  thirty-five 
miles  between  himself  and  his  starting  place,  he  dismounted, 
tethered  his  animal  in  a  spot  of  wild  oats  a  little  off  the  road, 
rubbed  him  down  with  dry  leaves  and  grass,  and  rolling  him- 
self in  a  blanket  lay  down  upon  the  ground. 

If  his  body  was  weary  he  was  not  aware  of  it,  for  his 


236  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

heart  was  filled  with  the  sweetest  hopes;  and  what  sustains 
the  physical  powers  like  hope  ? 

As  he  lay  looking  up  at  the  stars,  and  Watching  the  full 
moon  coming  slowly  up  from  behind  the  distant  hills  and 
climbing  a  sky  that  had  not  known  a  cloud  for  weeks  and 
weeks,  he  recalled  every  incident  -of  his  life  from  the  time 
when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Parsons  had  taken  him,  a  poor,  outcast 
boy,  to  their  home  and  their  hearts. 

He  thought  upon  every  act  of  Lucy's  which  appeared  in 
any  degree  to  indicate  her  feelings  towards  himself,  and  tried 
to  place  one  against  another,  the  unfavorable  against  the 
favorable,  in  such  a  way  as  to  enable  him  to  strike  a  balance 
and  determine  just  what  his  chances  were.  But  in  this  he 
was  conscious  of  failing,  for  there  were  many  little  instances 
— acts  or  words — the  meaning  of  which  he  was  utterly  un- 
able to  determine,  which  he  yet  felt  certain  had  a  meaning 
if  only  he  knew  upon  which  side  of  his  love  account  to 
place  them.  Besides,  it  was  so  very  pleasant  to  fancy  that 
the  favorable  ones  outnumbered  the  others,  if  indeed  there 
were  any  others,  that  he  could  not  avoid  going  off  into  bliss- 
ful waking  dreams  of  the  future,  when  he  should  have  got 
his  place  at  the  Slough  irrigated,  and  set  in  fruits,  and 
have  a  cottage  built. 

He  would  have  a  cottage  just  like  the  one  in  the  foot- 
hills, where  they  had  all  spent  so  many  pleasant  days,  he 
thought;  the  cottage  now  abandoned  and  going  to  decay. 
Lucy  would  be  by  his  side  always,  and  Uncle  John  and 
Aunt  Martha  should  bring  Johnny  and  live  with  them,  their 
honored  and  beloved  guests,  and  all  the  misunderstandings 
and  suffering  of  the  past  should  be  forgotten. 

And  thus  he  lay  and  drew  bright  pictures  of  sweet  days 
to  come,  until  from  waking  dreams  he  passed  to  dreams 
which  come  in  sleep,  but  they  did  not  greatly  differ  from 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  237 

each  other;  the  music  and  the  words  were  just  the  same — 
were  love  and  Lucy;  love  and  Lucy. 

Although  the  sun  was  not  yet  up,  there  was  no  dew  upon 
his  blanket  or  in  his  hair  when  he  awoke  in  the  morning; 
for  dew  seldom  falls  in  this  portion  of  California  during  the 
dry  season. 

The  roan  horse  had  risen  from  his  bed  in  the  tall  oats, 
and  had  stretched  himself  and  begun  again  to  eat  of  the 
rich  herbage. 

Erastus  led  him  to  drink  at  a  creek  which  they  had 
crossed  but  a  little  way  back  the  night  before,  again  rubbed 
him  down,  and  leaving  him  eating,  walked  to  a  rancher's 
shanty,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  in  quest  of  his  own  break- 
fast. 

He  found  the  family  just  sitting  down  to  their  own  meal, 
explained  to  them  that  he  had  ridden  late  the  night  before 
and  had  camped  out,  and  was  given  a  cordial  invitation  to 
"  draw  a  chair  up  to  the  table  and  help  himself,"  which  he 
very  promptly  did. 

Breakfast  eaten,  he  offered  to  pay,  but  was  refused  ; 
gave  thanks  instead  of  money,  and  hurrying  back  to  the 
place  where  he  had  left  his  horse,  fastened  his  blanket  to  the 
saddle,  placed  both  upon  the  roan,  and  mounting,  resumed 
his  journey. 

Just  before  noon  he  stopped  at  a  little  town,  put  up  at 
the  hotel,  fed  and  rubbed  down  his  steed,  got  his  own  din- 
ner; and  did  not  mount  again  until  the  greatest  heat  of  the 
day  was  over.  Then  he  pushed  on  at  a  rapid  pace  until  an 
hour  after  sunset,  when  he  again  tethered  his  horse  and 
slept  upon  the  ground,  as  he  had  done  the  night  before. 

The  day  following  was  a  repetition  of  the  one  which  pre- 
ceded it,  but  its  close  found  him  well  up  in  the  foot-hills,  and 
he  put  up  at  the  cottage  of  a  rancher,  with  whom  he  had 


238  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

stayed  over  night  when  on  his  way  to  the  Slough  the  year 
before. 

In  the  morning  he  arose  with  one  thought  throbbing  in 
brain  and  heart,  "  to-night  I  shall  see  her ;  to-night  I  shall 
know  my  fate." 

He  fed  and  groomed  his  horse  as  usual,  but  could 
scarcely  wait  for  breakfast,  which  was  not  yet  prepared  when 
he  returned  from  the  stable.  He  had  eaten  a  cold  lunch  for 
supper,  but  his  impatience  conquered  all  desire  for  food. 
He  was  counting  the  hours  now,  and  the  moments  would 
drag  themselves  so  until  he  was  in  the  saddle  again. 

Rather  than  appear  discourteous  or  strange,  he  waited  for 
the  morning  meal  to  be  prepared,  but  was  off  almost  before 
his  host  had  arisen  from  the  table. 

He  had  ridden  seventy-five  miles  the  day  before,  and  had 
feared  the  roan  might  feel  a  little  stiff  and  sore  at  starting, 
but  when  he  saw  him  come  out  of  the  stable  with  head  up, 
apparently  as  anxious  as  himself  to  be  off,  this  fear  vanished, 
and  he  determined  to  push  through  the  remaining  forty 
miles  without  -baiting.  But  he  found  the  roads  not  so  good 
as  he  had  anticipated. 

He  was  now  in  a  part  of  the  foot-hills  with  which  he  was 
unacquainted,  for  he  no  longer  followed  the  road  over  which 
he  came  the  year  before,  but  struck  across  the  country  by  a 
route  which  left  the  old  home  off  to  the  left,  and  threw  him 
further  up  towards  the  mountains,  and  when  noon  came^he 
was  still,  from  the  best  information  he  could  get,  fully  fifteen 
miles  from  John  Parsons'  shanty,  and  compassion  for  his 
horse  induced  him  to  stop  at  a  rancher's  for  feed  and  rest ; 
so  that  with  this  delay  and  the  trouble  which  he  experienced 
in  learning  exactly  where  the  shanty  was,  even  when  within 
a  few  miles  of  it,  the  afternoon  was  well  nigh  worn  away 
when  he  reached  the  point  where  the  by-road  which  led  to 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  239 

it  turned  off  from  the^main  track;  and  even  then  he  was  not 
certain  of  this  being  the  place. 

He  had  stopped  his  horse  and  was  debating  with  himself 
whether  to  turn  off  or  follow  the  main  road  yet  further,  when 
he  saw  coming  around  the  spur  of  the  mountain  and  into 
the  road  over  which  he  had  just  passed,  her  for  love  of 
whom  he  had  come,  and  the  sight  sent  all  the  blood  in  his 
body  surging  to  his  heart,  and  for  the  moment  he  could 
neither  have  spoken  nor  moved. 

Evidently  Lucy  had  not  seen  him  pass,  and  was  not  now 
aware  of  his  presence. 

She  had  gone  to  find  the  cows  and  drive  them  home  to 
be  milked,  and  was  following  along  behind  them  as  they 
lazily  moved  homeward. 

She  was  dressed  as  Erastus  had  seen  her  oftenest  in  the 
olden  time,  in  a  light  print  dress  and  sun-bonnet.  In  her 
hand  she  carried  a  little  crooked  stick,  which  she  had  picked 
up  to  drive  the  cows  with,  but  was  paying  very  little  atten- 
tion to  them.  Instead  she  was  gazing  off  upon  the  hills 
which  stretched  away  and  away,  one  above  another,  until  they 
became  snow-capped  peaks  that  in  the  light  of  the  falling 
sun  looked  like  amethysts  set  into  the  cerulean  blue  of  the 
heavens. 

Had  not  the  cows  paused  at  sight  of  the  man  and  horse 
standing  in  their  path  she  might  have  reached  his  side  before 
becoming  aware  of  his  presence,  but  when  the  cows  stopped 
and  stood  with  their  great  eyes  staring  with  the  least  bit  of 
surprise  at  what  was  not  a  very  common  sight  to  them  in 
their  mountain  pastures,  she  raised  her  stick  and  bid  them 
"go-long."  Then  seeing  for  the  first  time  a  gentleman 
standing  bv  the  roadside  holding  his  horse  by  the  bridle,  she 
blushed  a  little  beneath  her  sun-bonnet,  and  dropping  her 


240  ,       DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

eyes,  followed  closely  after  the  cows,  which  had  again  lazily 
taken  up  their  line  of  march. 

The  blush  which  suffused  her  cheeks  was  not,  however, 
owing  to  her  having  recognized  the  horseman,  for  she  had 
not  done  so.  She  had  only  glanced  at  him  and  then  drop- 
ped her  eyes  with  a  feeling  of  embarrassment,  for  she  seldom 
met  gentlemen  now,  and  however  much  poets  may  sing  the 
charms  of  milkmaids  in  calico  dresses,  they  will  never  be  able 
to  convince  any  member  of  the  sex  that  they  look  their  best  in 
that  role,  any  more  than  can  be  taken  from  them  their  womanly 
desire  to  appear  well  in  the  eyes  of  one  of  the  opposite  sex, 
even  though  he  be  an  entire  stranger,  as  she  supposed  this 
one  to  be  who  stood  waiting  for  her  approach,  presumably 
that  he  might  inquire  the  way  to  some  neighboring  rancher  s 
shanty,  or  possibly  if  her  parents  would  entertain  him  for  the 
night. 

When  within  a  few  paces  she  raised  her  eyes  and  turned 
her  face  towards  him. 

As  she  did  so  he  spoke  her  name  and  took  a  step  towards 
her. 

"  Lucy ! " 

She  stopped  suddenly  and  the  little  crooked  stick  fell  to 
the  ground  while  both  hands  went  to  her  face  pushing  back 
the  sun-bonnet. 

"  Lucy,  don't  you  know  me?  I've  come  all  the  way  back 
to  see  you;  started  the  moment  I  got  your  father's  let — that 
is  the  moment  I  learned  you  were  not  going  to  marry  Mr. 
Annelsey.  I  love  you,  Lucy— love  you  better  than  anybody 
or  anything  in  all  the  world.  I  have  always  loved  you  ever 
since  we  were  children  together,  and  I  want  you  to  be  my 
wife." 

And  she  only  said:  "Oh!  Ras!"  and  put  her  hands  to 
her  face  and  began  to  cry. 


242  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

"Lucy,  Lucy,  can't  you  love  me  ?"  pleaded  her  lover.  "  I 
know  I  am  not  rich  like  HE  was,  but  I'll  love  you  always,  love 
you  better,  it  seems  to  me,  than  anybody  else  can  love  you. 
Can't  you  love  me  Lucy?" 

She  put  out  one  little  sunburned  hand  and  laid  it  on  his 
arm.  With  the  other  she  continued  to  hide  her  face. 

"Oh,  Ras,"  she  sobbed.  "I — I — do  love  you;  I  always 
d-did,  but  I  thought  father  wa-wan-wanted  me  to  marry  HIM, 
and  that  you  1-loved  Julia  Ennis  and  then  I  didn't  care.  Oh, 
Ras,  I'm  so  glad  you've  come." 

And  she  buried  her  face  on  his  shoulder. 

With  his  arms  about  her,  telling  her  over  and  over  again 
how  dear  she  was  to  him,  and  how  it  was  because  he  thought 
she  could  not  love  him  as  he  wished  that  he  had  gone  away, 
the  two  might  have  stood  there  until  the  sun  had  hidden  itself 
from  sight  behind  the  mountains  and  the  night  had  come  up 
from  the  valley  below,  but  that  the  roan  horse,  in  his  efforts 
to  nibble  at  the  grass  by  the  roadside,  jerked  so  hard  upon 
the  bridle  which  Erastus  held  upon  his  arm  as  to  bring  them 
back  to  a  knowledge  of  their  surroundings. 

Then  they  started  slowly  homeward  along  the  by-road 
that  wound  around  the  rocks,  and  over  the  stones,  and  in 
and  out  of  gulleys  washed  by  centuries  of  rainy  seasons. 

So  slowly  in  fact  did  they  go  on,  that  the  cows,  lazy  as 
they  were,  had  got  home  and  been  milked,  and  Mrs.  Parsons 
had  looked  many  times  in  the  direction  from  which  they 
came,  and  in  which  she  knew  Lucy  had  started  in  search  of 
them,  hoping  to  see  her  coming  Finally,  a  little  worried  at 
her  long  absence,  she  suggested  to  her  husband  that  he  go 
up  the  mountain  a  little  way  and  call,  and  he,  quick  to  take 
the  alarm,  was  on  the  point  of  starting  when  he  saw  the 
lovers  approaching;  the  roan  horse  following  the  length  of 
his  bridle  rein  behind. 


I  KNOWED  IT!  I  KNOWED  RAS  COULD  TAKE  A  HINT!  THAT'S  HIM, 
MARTY,  THAT'S  RAS,  AN'  HE  AN'  LUCY  HEV  MADE  UP.  DON'T 
YOU  SEE?  HE'S  A-HOLDIN'  OF  HER  HAND." 


243 


244  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

For  a  little  space  John  Parsons  stood  in  doubt,  then  raised 
his  hand  to  his  eyes  as  if  to  gather  more  of  the  failing  light. 

Only  an  instant  he  stood  so,  and  then  bringing  his  hand 
down  upon  his  thigh  with  a  slap,  he  exclaimed: 

"  I  knowed  it !  I  knowed  Ras  could  take  a  hint !  That's 
him,  Marty,  that's  Ras,  an'  he  an'  Lucy  hev  made  up. 
Don't  ye  see?  he's  a-holdin'  of  her  hand." 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  . 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE     COTTAGE    AT    THE   SLOUGH. 

A  very  happy  little  group  it  was  that  sat  under  the  new 
porch  of  the  shanty  until  long  after  the  stars  came  out  that 
night. 

So  many  changes  had  taken  place;  there  was  so  much  to 
talk  about,  that  it  was  ten  o'clock  before  they  once  thought 
of  the  time,  and  still  they  talked  on  for  another  hour  before 
retiring — the  family  to  their  beds  and  Erastus  to  a  bunk  on 
the  floor. 

The  young  man  remained  three  days  with  them,  and 
during  that  time  they  talked  over  all  matters  relating  to  fam- 
ily affairs — past,  present  and  future. 

Mrs.  and  Mr.  Parsons  of  course  gladly  gave  their  consent 
to  the  engagement  of  the  young  people,  but  it  was  necessary 
to  postpone  the  wedding  until  Erastus  could  get  his  place 
irrigated  and  in  shape  to  produce  a  living. 

It  seemed  very  hard  to  part  again  so  soon,  but  since  he 
could  not  take  Lucy  with  him,  every  day  spent  away  from  his 
own  ranch  delayed  their  marriage  that  much  the  longer. 

And  then  there  would  be  the  pleasure  of  writing  and 
receiving  letters,  which  of  course  they  would  do  every  week 
at  the  farthest. 

The  project  of  selling  the  mountain  ranch  and  all  going 
to  the  Slough  to  live  was  talked  of,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Par- 
sons agreed  that  when  Erastus  got  his  place  irrigated  and 
was  ready  to  marry,  if  he  was  satisfied  with  the  country  and 
the  prospect,  they  would  sell  their  own  home  and  buy  again 


246  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

as  near  him  as  possible,  and  if  not  they  would  both  sell  and 
go  elsewhere  and  buy  together. 

And  thus  all  were  comforted  by  the  thought  that  Lucy's 
marriage,  when  it  should  occur,  would,  instead  of  separating 
her  from  her  parents,  reunite  them  all  with  Erastus,  and  it  is 
probable  that  for  these  three  days  the  inmates  of  the  shanty 
upon  the  mountain  side  were  as  happy  as  it  often  falls  to  the 
lot  of  people  to  be. 

Certainly  John  Parsons  was  happy. 

Lucy  and  Erastus  wandered  about  the  place,  and  through 
the  gulch  and  up  the  mountain  side  together. 

Together  they  went  for  the  cows,  as  Lucy  had  done  alone 
the  night  Erastus  came. 

Erastus  helped  Mr.  Parsons  sprout  the  grape-vines,  and 
Lucy  helped  Erastus;  and  if  occasionally,  as  they  worked 
together  at  a  vine,  their  hands  met  and  their  fingers  inter- 
twined it  was  no  more  than  the  tender  tendrils  of  the  vine 
they  were  trimming  did. 

If,  as  they  walked  hand  in  hand  over  the  mountain,  or  sat 
to  rest  in  some  quiet  nook  his  lips  sought  hers  and  drank 
deep  of  love's  nectar,  they  only  followed  the  example  of  the 
birds  that  near  them  billed  and  cooed,  and  talked  of  where 
their  next  year's  nest  should  be. 

And  have  not  you,  dear  reader,  done  the  same?  Then 
have  you  not  known  the  sweetest  and  the  best  thing  that  life 
has  to  give  ? 

I  will  not  describe  the  parting,  when  at  last  the  day  and 
the  hour  came,  and  the  roan  horse  stood  ready  to  be  mounted 
at  the  door. 

There  is  enough  of  sadness  and  suffering  in  this  true 
story  without  dwelling  upon  the  parting  of  those  loving 
hearts. 

It  was  noon  when  Erastus  started  on  his  return;  it  was 


OR,  JUST    A    C  AMPIN  .  247 

night  on  the  fourth  day  when  he  led  the  roan  into  his  stall 
at  the  Slough  and  ate  supper  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Johnson,  to 
whom  he  frankly  told  the  purpose  and  result  of  his  visit,  and 
from  whom  he  received  hearty  congratulations. 

The  next  morning  he  went  back  to  work  on  the  ditch, 
and  if  his  companions  were  ready  with  their  jokes,  he  was  in 
far  too  good  humor  with  the  world  and  all  things  in  it  to  be 
offended  at  what  he  knew  was  kindly  meant. 

For  months  he  worked  early  and  late  at  the  ditch,  and 
when  it  had  been  completed,  and  the  water,  in  its  slow  seep- 
ing through  the  soil,  had  rendered  it  capable  of  sustaining 
vegetable  life,  he  began  planting  of  trees  and  vines,  and 
breaking  the  soil  for  future  crops.  When  the  year  closed 
he  found  his  place  beginning  to  look  quite  like  living. 

He  had  intended  going  again  to  visit  Lucy  and  her 
parents  at  this  time,  but  his  place  still  lacked  a  dwelling,  and 
the  little  it  would  cost  to  make  the  journey  would  aid  just 
that  much  towards  buying  the  material  towards  the  cottage 
which  he  had  planned,  and  he  finally  decided  not  to  go,  but 
instead  to  take  his  team  and  work  a  month  for  the  rancher 
who  had  pastured  his  colts  during  two  dry  seasons;  and  thus, 
instead  of  spending  what  little  he  had,  obtain  enough  more 
to  enable  him  to  get  the  material  to  begin  building  with. 

When  this  was  done  he  procured  the  assistance  of  a 
neighbor  who  had  a  few  carpenters'  tools  and  some  knowl- 
edge of  the  trade,  and  together  they  framed  and  sided  up 
the  cottage. 

Then  he  worked  at  night  to  finish  it. 

Often  when  thus  engaged,  after  a  hard  day's  work  in  the 
field,  would  he  take  from  his  pocket  one  of  Lucy's  letters, 
and  sitting  upon  the  work-bench  or  a  saw-horse,  re-read  the 
lines  he  already  knew  by  heart,  or  lose  himself  in  dreams 
which  those  lines  gave  rise  to;  then,  rousing  himself,  take 


248  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

up  his  tools  and  work  far  into  the  night,  that  the  cottage 
might  be  the  sooner  completed  and  the  face  and  form  which 
he  now  saw  only  in  dreams,  be  ever  present  with  him  in 
reality. 

At  last  the  cottage  was  finished  and  ready  for  occu- 
pancy. 

A  plain  cottage  it  was;  not  unlike  the  one  on  the  moun- 
tain side,  only  a  little  longer,  and  wider  and  higher. 

There  were  two  rooms  below  and  one  above,  and  there 
was  a  little  porch  over  the  front  door — not  long  or  broad, 
but  sufficient  to  shade  the  room  from  the  sun  a  little  and 
give  relief  from  the  bare  and  inhospitable  look  which  a 
dwelling  without  any  projection  always  has. 

He  meant  to  add  a  larger  structure  in  front  in  a  few  years, 
when  his  ranch  should  be  fully  irrigated  and  in  cultivation, 
and  so  reproduce  the  cottage  in  the  foot-hills  in  accordance 
with  the  plans  he  had  laid  the  night  he  slept  under  the  stars 
on  his  hastily  made  visit  the  time  he  won  Lucy's  consent  to 
be  his  wife;  but  for  this  he  must  wait  yet  a  while. 

And  so,  with  a  heart  filled  with  hope  and  courage,  and 
running  over  with  affection  for  her  who  was  to  return  with 
him  as  his  bride,  he  took  a  long  look  about  the  cottage,  and 
going  out,  carefully  closed  the  door  behind  him  that  it  might 
not  become  unfastened  during  his  absence. 

Standing  in  front  of  his  cottage,  he  cast  his  eyes  over 
his  ranch  with  a  feeling  of  pride  and  satisfaction. 

That  which  three  years  before  had  been  a  bit  of  desert 
was  now  a  farm,  with  an  orchard  and  vineyard  and  fertile 
fields;  none  of  them  very  large,  it  is  true,  but  everything 
there  was  the  work  of  his  own  hands,  the  result  of  his  own 
energy  and  economy,  and  it  was  something  of  which  he 
might  well  be  proud. 

When  he  had  taken  it  all  in — the  cottage  and  the  green 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  249 

fields  and  the  young  orchard  and  vineyard — as  a  picture 
which  he  could  hold  in  his  memory  until  he  returned,  and 
could  describe  to  Lucy  and  Uncle  John,  and  Aunt  Martha, 
and  Johnny,  he  turned  and  walked  rapidly  away  in  the 
direction  of  Mr.  Johnson's. 

He  was  to  start  early  the  next  morning,  and  was  to  drive 
his  own  team;  the  colts  now  fully  grown  and  hardened  to 
work. 

He  had  decided  upon  this  after  conferring  by  letter  with 
Lucy  and  her  parents. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Parsons  desired  to  give  as  much  as  possi- 
ble of  the  furniture  necessary  to  start  the  young  folks  in 
housekeeping,  and  they  could  do  this  to  some  extent  out  of 
what  still  remained  of  that  brought  from  the  old  home  in 
the  foot-hills,  and  it  was  just  as  cheap  and  a  good  deal  nicer, 
these  lovers  thought,  to  make  the  journey  this  way,  in  their 
own  conveyance,  with  their  household  goods  packed  in  the 
wagon,  than  to  first  transport  them  fifteen  miles  to  Phippsburg, 
ship  them  by  boat  and  cars,  and  then  go  a  long  distance 
after  them  at  the  other  end  of  the  route. 

Besides,  in  thus  going  across  country  they  would  have  a 
whole  week  to  spend  in  each  other's  company;  in  which  to 
talk  of  their  love  and  lay  plans  for  the  future. 

It  would  be  -almost  as  good  as  a  real  wedding  tour,  Lucy 
decided. 

And  so  one  afternoon  the  dwellers  on  the  mountain  side 
saw  a  wagon  drawn  by  a  pair  of  bay  horses,  whose  driver 
was  a  dust-covered  young  man  with  a  sun-tanned  face  and 
sandy  mustache,  wearing  a  wide-brimmed  straw  hat,  coming 
up  the  by-road  which  ended  at  their  gate,  and  knew  that  the 
bridegroom  had  come  to  claim  his  bride. 

The  place  had  changed  considerably  since  Erastus  had 
seen  it  two  years  before. 


250  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

The  addition  to  the  shanty  had  been  erected,  and  with 
the  little  porch  in  front  fairly  raised  it  to  the  dignity  of  a 
cottage. 

The  rose  bushes  which  Lucy  and  her  mother  had  planted 
had  grown  as  all  things  do  grow  in  that  climate  and  soil; 
had  clambered  all  over  the  porch  and  were  in  full  bloom, 
having  been  watered  and  tended  by  loving  hands. 

Back  of  the  cottage  and  on  either  side  great  hollyhock 
bushes,  with  purple  and  white  and  yellow  blossoms  stood 
"  thick  as  people  in  a  street,"  and  over  the  low  windows,  and 
reaching  clear  up  to  the  eaves,  Madeira  vines  mingled  their 
soft,  green  leaves  with  those  of  the  morning-glories,  that  in 
the  early  hours  of  the  day  were  sprinkled  thick  with  beauti- 
ful, bell-shaped  flowers. 

In  front  were  long  beds  of  pinks,  and  verbenas,  and  lark- 
spurs, and  great  crimson-hearted  dahlias,  that  lifted  up  their 
faces  and  bloomed  and  nodded  in  the  breeze;  bent  low  as  if 
to  inhale  the  fragrance  of  the  mignonette  that  looked  up 
from  the  borders  of  the  beds  in  which  they  all  grew. 

The  grape-vines  upon  the  sloping  ground  above  the 
house  had  added  two  years  of  growth  to  their  stems;  and 
although  yet  unable  to  stand  erect  without  the  supports  to 
which  they  were  tied,  their  symmetrical  arrangement  in  rows, 
together  with  the  richness  of  their  foliage,  formed  a  back- 
ground that  brought  out  the  coloring  of  as  pretty  a  picture 
of  simple  home  life  as  one  may  hope  to  see  in  a  long  drive 
in  the  mountains  or  foot-hills;  and  it  is  in  the  mountains 
and  the  foot-hills  that  beautiful  pictures  are  to  be  sought  for. 
Outside  of  the  inclosure  and  a  little  further  up  the 
mountain,  the  cows  which  Lucy  had  driven  home  on  that 
blissful  evening  two  years  before  when  Erastus  had  told  her 
of  his  love,  were  quietly  chewing  their  cuds  beneath  a 
scraggy,  low-branched  oak. 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  251 

Below,  brown  in  the  October  sun,  lay  the  stubble  field 
from  which  the  grain  had  been  harvested,  and  which  now 
stood  in  a  rick  near  the  shed  where  the  horses  were  munch- 
ing at  their  feed. 

Beyond  the  cottage  was  the  young  orchard  of  peach, 
and  pear,  and  apple-trees,  and  over  all  the  cloudless  blue 
sky  of  California. 

More  than  a  hundred  turkeys  wandered  at  will  through 
the  orchard,  down  into  the  stubble-field,  and  far  up  on  the 
mountain  side.  Or  they  clustered  about  the  shed  and  rick  of 
grain,  or  came  with  the  chickens  at  feeding  time  to  the  bare 
bit  of  earth  near  the  kitchen  door  to  receive  their  portion  of 
the  food  thrown  to  them  by  some  member  of  the  family 
dwelling  within  the  vine-wreathed  cottage. 

And  here,  one  morning  a  week  after  Erastus'  coming,  a 
little  party,  composed  of  neighbors  and  their  families, 
gathered  to  witness  the  marriage  of  the  young  couple  who 
had  plighted  their  faith  two  years  before,  standing  in  the 
road  while  the  cows  went  lazily  home  without  them. 

It  was  not  an  assembly  such  as  would  have  graced  a 
fashionable  church  in  a  great  city.  Not  one  among  them 
all,  perhaps,  but  would  have  felt  ill  at  ease  in  a  richly  fur- 
nished parlor  of  a  brown-stone  front  in  New  York  or 
Chicago. 

They  were  common  country  people — husbands  and  wives 
who  gained  their  living  as  John  and  Martha  Parsons  gained 
theirs — by  the  tillage  of  the  soil  and  the  raising  of  fruits, 
and  grain,  and  poultry.  Young  men  and  maidens,  the  sons 
and  daughters  of  these  people  in  the  common  walks  of  life, 
dressed — the  girls  in  cheap,  light-colored  lawns,  with  maybe 
a  bit  of  bright  ribbon  at  the  throat  or  about  the  waist ;  the 
young  men  in  suits  of  linen  or  some  other  light  and  not 
costly  fabric,  and  all  of  them  with  hands  and  faces  tanned 


252  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

by  the  sun,  but  with  hearts  that  throbbed  as  quickly  at 
whisperings  of  love,  or  capable  of  feeling  as  keenly  the 
stings  of  unjust  criticism  as  if  they  were  robed  in  velvet, 
with  diamonds  sparkling  upon  soft,  white  hands. 

Before  these  friends  and  neighbors,  Lucy,  dressed  much 
as  the  other  maidens  were  dressed,  only  that  her  robe  of 
pure  white  was  of  finer  material,  and  without  ornament 
except  some  roses  upon  her  breast  and  in  her  beautiful  dark 
hair,  stood  up  with  Erastus  and  gave  the  responses  that 
made  them  husband  and  wife  as  they  were  propounded  by 
the  gray-haired  minister  whose  services  had  been  secured 
for  the  occasion. 

The  kisses  and  congratulations  over,  and  the  tears  which 
would  come  in  spite  of  her  determination  not  to  let  them, 
dried  upon  the  cheek  of  the  bride,  they  all  sat  down  to  a 
meal  at  which  there  was  a  bride's  cake,  of  course,  and  a 
cold  roast  turkey,  and  great  mealy  potatoes,  and  the  most 
beautiful  bread. 

There  was  fruit  also ;  the  first  borne  by  the  trees  and 
vines  planted,  since  coming  to  the  place,  by  the  hands  that 
sought  out  and  plucked  these,  the  occasional  first  offerings 
found  scattered  here  and  there  among  the  foliage. 

And  afterwards  there  were  kisses  and  hand-shakes  again, 
and  foldings  of  the  bride  to  the  bosom  of  father  and  mother, 
and  tears  in  the  eyes  of  all,  and  fervent  "  God  bless 
you's." 

And  then  Lucy  was  helped  to  a  seat  in  the  wagon,  over 
which  a  canvas  cover  had  been  stretched  and  into  which  the 
little  store  of  household  goods  which  formed  her  dowry  had 
been  packed.  Then  her  husband  climbed  up  by  her  side 
and  amid  wavings  of  handkerchiefs  and  more  "  God  bless 
you's,"  they  drove  down  the  lane  and  out  upon  the  road 
which  led  away  over  the  mountain  and  the  foot-hills 


OR.  JUST   A    CAMPIN  .  253 

towards  the  new  cottage  which  awaited  their  coming  at  the 
Slough. 

Oh,  what  a  happy,  happy  journey  was  that  for  seven 
whole  bright  October  days  ;  traveling  by  easy  stages  during 
the  day,  and  camping  out,  sleeping  in  the  wagon  at  night ! 

What  beautiful  bits  of  scenery  they  pointed  out  to  each 
other  !  How  they  laughed  over  the  little  incidents  of  the 
journey  or  the  camp,  as  the  tipping  over  of  their  coffee- 
kettle  while  getting  their  evening  meal  in  some  quiet  little 
grove,  after  the  day's  drive. 

What  memories  of  the  longer  journey  across  the  plains 
when  they  were  children  came  back  to  them  as  they  watched 
the  camp-fire  smouldering  in  the  darkness,  and  the  twink- 
ling of  the  stars  overhead ;  and  what  beautiful  secrets  they 
disclosed  to  each  other  as  proofs  of  their  mutual  love  and 
confidence  !  And  when,  on  the  evening  of  the  last  day's 
journey,  they  drove  up  to  the  Johnson  shanty,  what  a  hearty 
greeting  Mrs.  and  Mr.  Johnson  gave  to  the  young  bride 
who  had  come  to  make  glad  the  home  of  her  husband,  and 
to  be  a  neighbor  and  friend  among  neighbors  and  friends  ! 

And  when,  after  a  hearty  meal  of  the  best  that  could  be 
found  in  the  house,  they  went  to  take  a  look  at  their  own 
home,  walking  hand  in  hand  across  the  fields,  with  what 
pride  Erastus  pointed  out  the  boundaries  of  his  own  claim  ; 
to  the  vineyard,  and  orchard,  and  fields,  made  fruitful  by 
the  water  that,  coming  through  the  open  ditches  cut  by  his 
own  hands  and  those  of  his  neighbors,  was  fast  turning  the 
desert  into  a  garden. 

And  the  cottage  ;  how  pleased  Lucy  professed  to  be — 
really  was — with  its  appearance  and  conveniences  !  What 
pleasure  they  took  in  deciding  just  where  each  piece  of 
furniture  should  be  placed  !  They  would  have  a  carpet  on 
the  larger  down  stairs  room,  and  the  bureau  and  the  best 


254  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

chairs  should  go  in  that ;  and  the  small  table,  with  a  few 
books,  should  stand  near  the  center  of  it.  Lucy's  guitar 
should  hang  on  the  wall  with  Erastus'  flageolet,  and  just  as 
soon  as  they  could  they  would  get  a  few  pictures  to  help 
make  the  room  look  still  more  bright  and  tasty.  Their  bed 
they  would  put  up  stairs,  and  until  they  could  build  larger, 
would  eat  in  the  kitchen,  or,  in  pleasant  weather,  out  of 
doors,  and  so  keep  the  best  room  always  cosy  and  nice. 

And  so,  still  planning  for  the  future,  yet  perfectly  happy 
in  the  present,  they  returned  as  they  came,  hand  in  hand 
across  lots  to  Mr.  Johnson's,  where  they  were  to  spend  the 
night. 

On  the  morrow  Mr.  Johnson  helped  Erastus  to  unload 
the  few  heavy  articles  and  place  them  in  the  cottage  and 
then  went  away,  and  together  the  young  couple  put  down 
the  carpet  and  arranged  the  furniture,  returning  to  Mrs. 
Johnson's  to  dinner  as  that  lady  insisted  that  they  should  do. 

Indeed,  she  would  have  had  them  remain  with  herself 
and  husband  for  a  week,  "until  they  got  rested  from  their 
journey,"  as  she  said,  but  to  this  they  could  not  think  of 
consenting. 

They  were  both  anxious  to  get  into  their  own  house,  that 
they  might  together  take  up  the  work  of  making  still  more 
beautiful  and  productive  the  spot  upon  which  they  expected 
to  remain  all  their  lives. 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  255 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE    THREATENING    WHIRLWIND. 

The  year  that  followed  was  a  very  happy  one  to  the 
young  couple,  working  away  upon  their  claim  at  the  Slough. 

True,  they  were  poor,  and  were  forced  to  live  very  eco- 
nomically; but  what  was  poverty  when  they  had  love,  and 
health,  and  the  assurance  that  poverty  would  be  vanquished 
in  a  very  few  years  more  ? 

It  lacked  less  than  two  years  of  the  time  when  they  could 
"prove  up"  and  get  a  government  patent  to  their  land  under 
the  homestead  act,  and  by  that  time  they  would  have  almost  as 
fine  a  fruit  and  vegetable  ranch  as  the  state  afforded;  for 
here  the  frost  never  comes,  and  with  all  fear  of  drouth  ban- 
ished by  the  certainty  of  an  abundant  supply  of  water  from 
the  river  through  the  irrigating  ditches,  prosperity  seemed 
assured  beyond  any  possibility  of  failure. 

Then,  too,  a  branch  of  the  Southern  Pacific  railroad  was 
being  built  near  them,  and  would  be  completed,  and  furnish 
means  of  transportation  for  everything  they  raised,  by  the 
time  their  trees  and  vines  were  in  full  bearing. 

And  they  had  good  neighbors,  which  added  much  to  the 
pleasantness  of  their  surroundings;  for  though  never  content 
to  be  separate  from  each  other,  even  for  a  day,  our  young 
friends  enjoyed  having  their  acquaintances  drop  in  on  them, 
and  often  visited  among  their  neighbors,  spending  the  even- 
ing or  Sunday  afternoon. 

They  heard  regularly  from  Lucy's  parents,  and  quite  fre- 
quently from  Jennie  and  her  husband,  who  were  still  in  Chi- 


256  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

cago  and  doing  well.  At  least  Ensign  had  steady  employ- 
ment, and  they  were  comfortable  and  happy. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Parsons  had  now  fully  decided  to  sell  their 
home  on  the  mountain  at  the  first  opportunity,  and  move  to 
the  Slough;  their  out-of-the-way  location  alone  operating 
against  the  ready  sale  of  the  place. 

Meantime  Erastus  and  Lucy  worked  on. 

The  size  of  orchard  and  vineyard  was  increased  by  the 
planting  of  other  trees  and  vines.  Rose-bushes  were  set  out 
at  the  corners  of  the  porch  and  beneath  the  windows,  and 
evergreens  and  flowering  shrubs  in  the  front  yard. 

The  main  irrigating  ditch  having  been  completed  the  year 
before,  the  work  of  carrying  the  water  wherever  needed,  by 
means  of  small  side  ditches,  was  comparatively  easy  and  rapid, 
so  that  some  pretty  broad  fields  of  grain  and  grass  were 
beginning  to  stretch  away  on  every  side  of  their  cottage. 

But  now  came  a  terrible  rumor. 

It  was  told  doubtingly  at  first,  as  something  that  could 
hardly  be  possible — that  the  Pacific  Railroad  Company  laid 
claim  to  the  lands  about  the  Slough,  and  would  compel  pay- 
ment of  their  present  market  value,  all  improvements 
included,  or  evict  the  homesteaders  from  possession. 

The  settlers  quite  generally  laughed  at  the  tale,  as  being 
started  by  someone  for  the  purpose  of  giving  them  a  fright. 

"What!"  they  said,  "the  railroad  company  claim  our 
lands !  Why,  the  land  was  absolutely  valueless,  thought  not 
to  be  worth  paying  taxes  on,  until  we  irrigated  it  and  built 
houses  and  put  out  orchards  and  vineyards. 

"  Besides,  the  land  grant  by  Congress  was  made  to  a  com- 
pany whose  charter  fixed  the  line  of  their  road  more  than  a 
hundred  miles  away,  on  the  other  side  of  a  range  of  moun- 
tains; and  even  this  grant  the  company  has  forfeited  long 
ago,  the  time  in  which  the  road  was  to  be  built  in  order  to 


OR,  JUST    A   C AMPIN  .  2$ 7 

obtain  the  land  having  expired  two  years  since,  and  the  road 
is  not  built  yet." 

It  seemed  absurd  for  anybody  to  talk  about  a  railroad 
company  having  a  claim  to  their  lands,  when  they  had 
redeemed  them  from  the  desert,  and  were  almost  ready  to 
prove  up  on  them  under  the  homestead  and  pre-emption 
laws. 

Yet  there  were  those  who  were  less  easily  disarmed  of 
fear. 

They  knew  that  in  Iowa  a  railroad  company  had  dispos- 
sessed settlers  who  had  actually  proved  up  and  received 
deeds  to  their  homes  from  government. 

There  were  those  among  them,  too,  who  had  suffered  from 
the  overflow  of  hydraulic  mines,  others  from  the  Suscol 
Ranch,  and  yet  others  who  had  suffered  from  the  encroach- 
ments of  corporations  in  other  states  and  other  portions  of 
this  state,  and  these  were  prepared  to  believe  that  nothing 
was  too  preposterous  for  the  railroad  company  to  claim,  if 
its  officers  thought  there  was  the  remotest  chance  of  enforc- 
ing it,  either  by  fair  means  or  foul. 

When  Erastus  Hemmingway  heard  the  rumor  his  heart 
sunk,  for  he  had  seen  too  much  of  the  heartlessness  and 
greed  of  corporations  not  to  fear  the  worst,  and  he  at  once 
took  steps  to  ascertain  the  truth. 

He  wrote  to  the  headquarters  of  the  company,  repeating 
what  he  had  heard,  and  asking  if  there  was  any  truth  in  the 
statement  that  the  company  professed  to  have  any  claim  to 
the  land  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Slough. 

In  reply  he  received  a  letter  and  also  a  circular. 

The  letter  was  signed  by  Leland  Stanford,  president  of 

the  railroad  company,  and  was  to  the  effect  that  the  company 

hoped  to  be  allowed  the  original  grant  of  lands  made  by 

Congress  in  aid  of  the  road,  but  the  boundaries  of  the  grant 

17 


258  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

had  not  been  determined,  and  probably  would  not  be  for 
some  time. 

Meanwhile,  the  letter  went  on  to  say,  the  settlers  could 
be  assured  that  in  no  case  should  they  be  the  losers,  as,  if  it 
should  eventually  be  determined  that  the  land  which  they 
occupied  was  within  the  limits  of  the  grant  to  the  road,  the 
company  pledged  itself  to  transfer  it  to  the  occupants  on  pay- 
ment of  the  government  price,  and  attention  was  called  to  the 
accompanying  circular,  copies  of  which,  the  letter  said,  were 
being  issued  and  distributed  all  over  the  state  for  the  purpose 
of  inducing  people  to  take  up  land  at  the  Slough.  This  cir- 
cular also  contained  a  pledge  that  if  found  to  be  within  the 
grant  of  Congress  to  the  road,  the  company  would  transfer 
the  land  to  whoever  had  improved  it,  immediately  on  pay- 
ment of  the  government  price. 

This  letter,  taken  in  connection  with  the  circulars,  which 
were  scattered  freely  among  the  settlers,  if  it  did  not  remove 
all  feeling  of  fear  from  the  minds  of  Erastus  and  a  few  others, 
did  serve  to  allay  the  general  alarm,  which  was  before  on  the 
increase,  and  improvements  went  on  as  usual. 

The  circulars  of  the  company  sent  to  other  portions  of 
the  state  had  the  desired  effect,  and  very  soon  other  families 
began  to  come  in  in  considerable  numbers,  all  taking  up 
claims  and  relying  upon  the  printed  pledges  of  the  company 
that  in  no  case  should  the  land  cost  them  more  than  the  price 
asked  by  government  for  wild  land. 

So  time  sped  on. 

And  now  those  who  came  first  to  the  Slough  began  to 
reap  abundantly  of  the  fruit  of  their  labor  and  perseverance. 

The  work  of  turning  a  veritable  desert  into  a  garden  had 
been  accomplished.  It  had  been  done,  too,  without  capital, 
and  by  men  who  were  forced  to  support  themselves  and 
their  families  while  the  transformation  was  being  made. 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  259 

Orchards  and  vineyards  were  loaded  with  fruit.  Olives 
and  apples,  peaches,  plums,  apricots,  pears,  pineapples,  lem- 
ons, pomegranates,  nectarines — all  the  semi-tropical  fruits, 
and  some  which  grow  nowhere  else  outside  of  the  tropics 
themselves,  were  to  be  found  in  full  bearing  upon  the  irri- 
gated lands  of  the  settlers  at  Mussel  Slough. 

Green  fields  grew  broader  and  greener.  Little  flocks 
and  herds  of  cattle  and  sheep  were  to  be  seen  feeding  on 
the  rich  vegetation  which  came  with  the  water  that  over- 
spread the  land  from  the  system  of  irrigating  ditches;  and 
as  the  result  of  all  this,  new  and  pretty  cottages  were  taking 
the  place  of  the  wretched  huts  in  which  nearly  all  had  been 
forced  to  live  during  the  first  years  of  their  residence;  and 
it  was  in  the  midst  of  this  prosperity,  when  want  had  been 
banished  by  years  of  patient,  persevering  toil,  and  they  were 
rejoicing  over  troubles  past,  and  the  thought  that  for  the 
rest  of  their  days  they  could  take  life  easy,  that  the  stroke 
came  which  turned  all  their  joy  into  mourning,  and  changed 
the  current  of  their  blood  from  the  peaceful  flow  of  quiet, 
happy  hearts  to  a  seething  flood  in  hearts  made  hot  with  fear 
and  hatred. 

This  was  no  rumor  from  an  unknown  source  that  reached 
their  ears,  awaking  doubt  in  some  and  ridicule  in  others.  It 
was  not  the  faint  murmuring  of  a  distant  storm  that  might 
never  reach  them,  but  the  sudden  rush  of  the  whirlwind; 
the  flash  of  the  lightning,  the  falling  of  the  thunderbolt  from 
a  sunny  sky.  It  came  as  a  notice  from  the  railroad  company 
to  each  settler,  informing  him  that  he  was  a  trespasser  on 
the  lands  of  the  company,  and  must  immediately  vacate 
unless  he  was  prepared  to  pay  the  value  of  the  lands  occu- 
pied by  him,  which  had  been  carefully  appraised,  so  the 
notice  read,  by  competent  judges,  whose  estimate  of  the 
value  of  each  quarter-section  accompanied  the  notice. 


260  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

This  appraisement  ranged  from  ten  to  thirty-five  dollars 
per  acre;  that  of  Erastus  Hemmingway  being  thirty  dollars 
per  acre,  or  a  total  of  four  thousand  eight  hundred  dollars, 
which  he  was  asked  to  pay  to  the  railroad  company  for  the 
land  he  had  redeemed  from  the  desert;  or  failing  therein 
was  ordered  to  at  once  vacate  the  premises. 

The  excitement  which  the  receipt  of  these  notices  caused 
can  be  imagined. 

Threats  of  vengeance  upon  the  officers  of  the  company 
were  both  loud  and  frequent,  and  had  they  been  present, 
there  is  no  question  as  to  what  their  fate  would  have  been. 
Death  in  some  form  would  unquestionably  have  been  meted 
out  to  them. 

But  they  were  careful  not  to  be  present. 

They  had  deliberately  laid,  and  were  now  executing,  a 
plan  to  rob  these  people  of  their  homes,  and  they  were  too 
cunning  to  come  within  reach  of  their  victims  while  the  first 
hot  flush  of  righteous  anger  was  upon  them. 

With  the  power  which  their  immense  wealth,  the  gift  of 
Congress,  gave  them,  they  did  not  fear  the  courts  or  the 
state  authorities. 

They  already  controlled  these,  and  were  prepared  to  bribe 
or  threaten,  as  they  deemed  most  likely  to  accomplish  their 
ends,  any  official  who  stood  in  the  way  of  their  plans  for 
wholesale  robbery. 

The  leaders  in  the  plot  -stood  high  in  social  and  political 
circles. 

Stanford,  the  president  of  the  company,  had  been  Gov- 
ernor of  the  State,  and  it  was  while  filling  this  exalted  posi- 
tion that  he  first  began  to  lay  plans  for  the  subjugation  of 
the  people,  and  in  Huntington  and  Crocker  he  had  able 
partners  and  unscrupulous  allies. 

The  settlers  had  small  means  of  making  the  outrage  upon 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  261 

their  rights  known,  and  their  cause  was,  indeed,  desperate, 
and  it  is  small  wonder,  when  in  every  dwelling  at  the  Slough 
were  women  whose  eyes  were  red  with  weeping,  that  there 
should  be  men  whose  lips  uttered  curses,  and  whose  muscles 
twitched  with  eagerness  to  lay  hand  upon  the  authors  of 
their  woe. 

Only  a  few  days  before  the  notices  to  pay  or  vacate 
reached  the  settlers,  Erastus  and  Lucy  had  received  a  letter 
from  Mrs.  Parsons  saying  that  they  had  at  last  found  a 
probable  purchaser  for  their  place. 

They  would  know  in  a  few  days,  she  wrote,  and  if  they 
sold  they  should  pack  up  and  start  for  the  Slough  at  once,  as 
they  did  not  wish,  even  if  the  purchaser  of  the  property 
would  permit,  to  remain  on  the  mountain  through  the  winter. 
It  would  seem  more  lonely  than  ever  when  the  place  was  no 
longer  their  own. 

The  only  thing  that  would  delay  their  coming,  if  they 
sold,  was  Johnny's  health. 

The  boy  had  not  been  as  well  as  common  the  past  sum- 
mer, and  had  been  quite  sick  recently,  but  was  getting  better 
now,  and  she  thought  would  be  able  to  be  moved,  and  if 
they  sold  she  would  take  him  and  start  at  once  by  boat,  leav- 
ing Mr.  Parsons  to  drive  across  with  their  household  goods, 
as  Erastus  and  Lucy  had  done. 

The  reception  of  this  news  had  caused  much  pleasure  to 
the  young  couple,  who  were  both  desirous  of  having  their 
parents  near  them. 

Lucy  was  especially  anxious  for  the  presence  of  her 
mother  at  this  time,  and  hastened  to  reply,  urging  that  they 
sell  if  they  could  get  anything  like  a  fair  price,  and  that  they 
come  at  once. 

But  when  the  determination  of  the  railroad  corporation 
to  rob  them  of  their  own  home  became  known  to  them,  they 


262  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

felt  it  would  be  better  for  their  parents  not  to  sell,  at  least 
for  the  present;  and  Lucy  again  wrote,  telling  her  parents  of 
the  difficulty  they  were  in,  and  that  if  they  had  not  sold,  it 
might  be  better  not  to  do  so. 

It  was  a  hard  thing  to  do,  and  the  poor  young  wife  had 
often  to  pause  and  wipe  away  the  tears  that  blinded  her  eyes 
as  she  wrote  of  their  troubles — thinking,  too,  of  the  sorrow 
it  would  bring  to  the  hearts  of  the  old  people  upon  the 
mountain  side. 

She  was  expecting  to  become  a  mother  soon,  and  all  the 
sweet  joy  with  which  she  had  been  looking  forward  to  the 
coming  of  the  babe,  had  given  place  to  a  terrible  fear  of 
what  the  future  might  have  in  store  for  them  all. 

Erastus  had  not  been  loud  in  his  threats,  as  had  others. 
Indeed  he  had  not  threatened  at  all;  but  he  was  not  a  man 
of  many  words.  And  she  had  not  forgotten  how  at  the 
Suscol  Ranch,  when  but  a  boy,  he  had  taken  her  mother  and 
Mrs.  Ritchie  with  the  children,  of  which  she  was  one,  to  a 
place  of  safety  and  then  returned  to  defend  the  cottage  with 
his  life.  And  now  the  thought  kept  coming  to  her,  "  What 
if  the  company  should  actually  attempt  the  eviction  of  the 
settlers  and  Erastus  should  again  defend  their  home,  and  be 
killed  ?" 

She  tried  to  put  the  thought  from  her,  but  it  kept  coming 
back,  each  time  with  increasing  strength,  until  it  came  almost 
to  be  a  conviction.  She  knew,  or  thought  she  knew,  that  if 
efforts  were  made  at  an  eviction,  her  husband  would  call  upon 
his  neighbors  to  defend  their  homes  with  their  lives,  and 
would  set  them  the  example. 

It  was  a  horrible  thought.  But  it  came  and  it  clung  to 
her;  and  though  she  tried  hard  not  to  make  her  letter  to  her 
parents  be  without  a  gleam  of  hope,  she  yet  felt  when  it  was 
vvntten  and  sealed  that  she  had  failed,  and  was  still  further 


OR,  JUST    A   CAMPIN*.  263 

depressed  by  the  thought  of  the  effect  it  would  have  upon 
those  to  whom  it  was  to  be  sent;  and  especially  upon  her 
father,  who  she  knew  would  bear  the  blow  even  less  stoutly 
than  her  mother. 

Meantime  the  verbal  sale  of  the  mountain  ranch  had  been 
concluded  between  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Parsons  and  the  gentleman 
of  whom  Mrs.  Parsons  had  written. 

They  were  to  receive  two  thousand  dollars  cash  down  and 
to  give  immediate  possession;  and  on  the  morning  but  one 
following  that  on  which  Lucy's  second  letter  was  mailed, 
John  Parsons  started  to  town  with  the  deed  made  out,  and 
signed  by  his  wife. 

He  was  to  meet  the  purchaser  at  the  court-house  in 
Phippsburg,  deliver  the  deed  and  receive  the  money,  pro- 
vided the  title  was  found  to  be  clear,  of  which  there  was  no 
doubt  in  the  minds  of  either  party  ;  the  abstract,  which 
Blake  gave  to  Parsons  when  he  bought  the  property,  having 
been  shown  as  proof  of  that  fact  when  negotiations  for  the 
purchase  and  sale  were  first  begun. 

The  sky  looked  cloudy  and  threatening  when  he  left 
home,  but  it  would  not  do  to  fail  of  being  at  the  appointed 
place  on  time,  and  he  kissed  his  crippled  boy  and  his 
wife  and  left  in  good  spirits,  promising  to  be  back  by 
dark. 

On  reaching  town  he  put  out  his  horse,  saw  that  he  was 
properly  fed,  and  then  started  for  the  court-house. 

On  his  way  there  he  had  to  pass  the  post-office,  and  stop- 
ping to  inquire  if  there  was  any  mail  for  him,  was  handed 
Lucy's  letter  to  her  mother. 

He  recognized  the  post-mark  and  opened  it  at  once, — 
not  a  common  proceeding  with  him,  for  his  eyes  were  no 
longer  good,  and  even  where  letters  came  addressed  to  him- 
self instead  of  his  wife,  he  usually  preferred  to  wait  until  he 


264  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

got  home  and  then  have  her  read  them  aloud  while  he  ate 
supper,  or  smoked  his  pipe  and  rested. 

But  now  something  impressed  him  with  the  thought  that 
he  had  better  open  the  letter.  He  had  a  feeling  that  per- 
haps all  was  not  right  at  the  Slough. 

Perhaps  it  was  because  it  had  been  only  a  few  days  since 
they  had  received  a  letter  from  there,  and  so  were  not  ex- 
pecting another  so  soon. 

Tearing  off  the  envelope  he  began  to  read,  but  had  not 
proceeded  far  before  his  hand  trembled  so  that  he  could  not 
hold  the  paper  still  enough  to  see  the  letters,  and  he  folded 
it  up  and  put  it  into  his  pocket. 

He  had  read  enough,  however,  to  understand  what  had 
befallen  his  children. 

He  knew  that  they  were  to  be  driven  from  their  home,  as 
he  and  they  had  so  often  been  before,  by  the  merciless  greed 
of  soulless  corporations,  or  combinations  of  rich  men  whose 
hearts  had  turned  to  stone  beneath  the  weight  of  their 
immense  wealth. 

For  a  moment  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  should  die  right 
there,  and  those  who  were  looking  saw  him  stagger  like  a 
drunken  man,  but  he  rallied  at  once  and  went  out  without  a 
word. 

The  thought  that  the  cottage  on  the  mountain  side  was 
still  theirs,  and  would  afford  an  asylum  for  the  children,  had 
come  to  him,  and  he  was  hastening  to  tell  the  would-be  pur- 
chaser that  under  the  circumstances  they  could  not  let  him 
have  the  place. 

It  was  fortunate  that  the  bargain  was  not  closed,  he 
thought.  How  lucky  that  he  had  opened  the  letter  instead 
of  waiting  until  he  got  home  ! 

They  could  all  live  comfortably  in  the  cottage  together, 
and  he  and  Marty  should  have  those  dearest  always  with 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  265 

them  the  little  while  they  should  continue  to  live,  and  by 
them  to  close  their  eyes  when  they  died,  and  no  one  would 
disturb  them  on  the  mountain  side,  which  was  so  secluded 
and  lonely  that  hardly  anybody  appeared  to  want  to  live 
there.  Yes,  it  was  very  fortunate  that  the  bargain  had  not 
been  closed,  and  he  would  pay  the  man  for  his  trouble  and 
ask  to  be  released. 

Entering  the  court-house  he  went  directly  to  the  record- 
er's office. 

The  gentleman  whom  he  expected  to  meet  was  already 
there,  and  in  company  with  the  recorder  was  looking  over 
the  records. 

Without  so  much  as  bidding  them  good  morning,  John 
Parsons  began  to  say  that  he  had  changed  his  mind  and 
wished  to  be  released  from  his  verbal  contract,  but  before  he 
could  make  his  meaning  understood  the  gentleman  who  had 
contracted  for  the  place  said: 

"How  is  this,  Mr.  Parsons  ?  I  find  a  mortgage  on  your 
place.  I  understood  you  to  say  it  was  clear  of  all  incum- 
brances." 

"A-a  mortgage ! " 

The  words  came  in  a  whisper  from  lips  that  were  blood- 
less, which  the  other  did  not  notice,  for  his  eyes  were  upon 
the  volume  of  records,  and  he  answered: 

"Yes.  A  mortgage  for  fifteen  hundred  dollars  with 
interest  for  six  years,  unless  it  has  been  paid;  making  a  total 
of  about  the  amount  I  was  to  pay  you  for  the  place.  The 
mortgage  seems  to  have  been  given  by  Mr.  Blake  to  a  Mr. 
Jones,  of  San  Francisco,  and — " 

But  he  did  not  conclude  the  sentence,  for  at  that  instant 
the  two  men  at  the  desk  heard  a  groan,  and  turning,  saw 
John  Parsons  fall  to  the  floor  as  if  dead. 

They  picked  him  up  and  laid  him  on  a  bench,  and  one  of 


1  A — A — MORTGAGE!  " 
266        • . 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  267 

them  ran  for  the  doctor,  while  the  other  attempted  to  pour 
some  whiskey  down  his  throat  from  a  flask. 

In  a  moment  he  revived,  and  when  the  doctor  came  run- 
ning in,  followed  by  a  crowd  of  business  men  and  idlers,  was 
sitting  up  with  his  head  leaning  upon  his  hands,  his  elbows 
upon  his  knees.  As  the  crowd  entered  he  looked  up  for  an 
instant  and  then  resumed  his  former  position,  but  that  instant 
sufficed  to  show  to  those  present  a  face  so  haggard  that  not 
one  among  them  all  recognized  it  as  the  face  of  John  Par- 
sons, the  owner  of  the  mountain  ranch. 

The  doctor  advanced  and  laid  a  hand  upon  the  wrist  of 
the  stricken  man,  as  if  to  feel  his  pulse. 

Then  John  Parsons  again  raised  his  head,  and  with  an 
effort  arose  to  his  feet. 

"  It  ain't  no  use,  Doc.,"  he  said,  recognizing  the  physi- 
cian as  one  who  had  attended  Johnny  in  his  recent  illness. 
"It  ain't  no  use,"  he  repeated,  "it's  the  heart  that's  ailin'  an' 
there  ain't  no  medicine  that'll  do  it  any  good;  leastwise 
nothin'  you  kin  give.  The  children  is  bein'  robbed  of  their 
home  just  as  their  parents  has  been  afore  'em,  and  there  ain't 
any  hope,  and  there  ain't  anything  left  to  live  fer. 

'  I  thought  when  I  read  the  letter  jest  now  that  we  could 
all  live  together  somehow  on  our  own  little  ranch,  but  it 
'pears  that  it  is  to  be  tuck  from  us  too — though  I  don't  know 
how  it  comes.  I  have  an  abstract  that  I  got  out  of  this  very 
office  when  I  bought  the  place  and  it  says  there  weren't  no 
mortgage  onto  it  then,  but  now  there  'pears  to  be  one  for  all 
it's  wo'th,  an'  they'll  take  it  of  course,  an'  there  ain't  no  place 
left  where  an  honest  man  kin  take  them  as  is  dependent  on 
him.  It  would  be  better  if  we  was  all  dead,  an'  I  'spect  we 
will  be  purty  soon. 

"  The  railroad  company'll  turn  Erastus  an'  Lucy  out,  an' 
the  girl'll  die,  maybe,  for  want  of  a  shelter,  when  her  baby 


268  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

comes  to  be  born,  an'  her  father  won't  have  any  shelter  to 
offer  her ;  fer  ef  they  were  mean  enough  to  mortgage  the 
place  and  then  sell  it,  they'll  be  devils  enough  to  turn  an  old 
man  an'  woman  an'  a  crippled  boy  out  the  minute  they  want 
possession." 

All  this  was  said  in  a  tone  of  voice  and  manner  that 
showed,  even  more  than  his  words,  how  utterly  broken  and 
hopeless  the  man  was,  and  when  he  ceased  speaking  he 
staggered  again,  and  those  about  him  thought  he  would 
have  fallen;  but  he  gathered  his  energies,  made  his  way 
through  the  crowd,  which  opened  to  let  him  pass,  went  to  the 
stable,  and  replacing  the  saddle  on  his  horse,  mounted  him 
and  turned  his  face  toward  home. 

The  moment  he  left  the  recorder's  office,  a  dozen  voices 
were  heard  eagerly  demanding  to  know  the  details  of  the 
affair. 

The  man  who  was  to  have  bought  the  place  could  tell 
nothing  beyond  the  fact  that  on  examining  the  records  he 
had  discovered  a  mortgage  against  it  for  about  the  value  of 
the  property. 

"  It  seemed  strange,"  he  said,  "that  the  mortgage  should 
be  there  and  have  escaped  the  eye,  not  only  of  Mr.  Parsons 
himself,  but  of  the  maker  of  the  abstract  which  he  received 
from  Mr.  Blake.  There  is  evidently  a  mistake  somewhere. 
Possibly  the  mortgage  has  been  paid  and  the  mortgagee  has 
neglected  to  cancel  it  on  the  books  in  the  office;  if  so  and  it 
can  be  proved,  it  can  all  be  made  right  yet." 

Then  somebody  suggested  that  Mr.  Parsons  be  called 
back  and  an  effort  made  to  ascertain  the  facts. 

"  It  is  a  pity  to  let  the  old  man  suffer  so,  if  it  is  only  a 
mistake  and  the  mortgage  has  been  paid,"  they  said;  and  a 
half  dozen  of  them  started  at  once  to  call  to  Mr.  Parsons  to 


OR,  JUST    A   CAMPIN*.  269 

stay  and  try  to  learn  all  the  facts,  but  the  recorder,  who 
had  remained  silent  during  the  discussion,  now  spoke: 

"  It's  no  use,  men, "  he  said,  "  the  mortgage  is  there,  and 
there  is  no  doubt  but  it  will  take  the  place,  unless  the  old 
man  can  raise  the  money  to  pay  it  off. 

"  You  know  I  have  only  been  in  office  less  than  a  year. 
When  I  came  in  here  I  got  to  looking  over  the  books  back  a 
piece  and  I  found  things  a  little  bit  mixed,  and  set  to  work 
to  straighten  'em  up.  Among  other  things  I  stumbled  onto 
this  mortgage.  It  was  recorded  all  right,  but  it  wasn't  in- 
dexed, and  you  know  a  man  might  hunt  for  a  week  through 
these  books  and  not  find  a  thing  that  wasn't  in  the  index. 
Besides,  no  one  would  ever  think  of  doing  so,  as  every  mort- 
gage is  supposed  to  appear  in  the  index  under  the  name  both 
of  the  maker  and  the  mortgagee. 

"  I  thought  at  the  time  that  like  enough  trouble  would 
come  of  the  blunder,  which  is  the  fault  of  old  Puterbaugh, 
who  was  recorder  at  the  time  it  occurred.  He  was  never 
sober  two  days  at  a  stretch,  and  ought  never  to  have  been 
elected,  but  he  managed  somehow  to  get  the  nomination, 
and  then  we  had  to  vote  for  him  or  go  back  on  the  party  ; 
and  you  know  we  couldn't  do  that. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  I  thought  like  as  not  Parsons 
never  knew  of  that  mortgage  being  there,  but  I  hadn't  the 
heart  to  mention  it,  and  it  wasn't  any  of  my  business  any- 
way, and  I  really  hoped  it  had  been  paid  and  would  never 
give  him  any  trouble.  But  about  a  week  ago  a  fellow 
was  here  from  Frisco — you  remember  him,  Jo?"  he  said,  in- 
terrupting himself  and  addressing  the  landlord  of  the  hotel, 
who  was  one  of  the  crowd — "  that  fellow  with  a  stove-pipe 
hat  and  a  suit  of  brown  velvet  clothes.  He  stopped  with 
you  ?" 


270  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  landlord,  "  I  remember  him.  He  was 
there  to  dinner  and  supper  and  left  on  the  down  boat." 

"Well,"  continued  the  recorder,  "that  was  Blake's  broth- 
er-in-law. I  don't  know  whether  he  is  as  big  a  rascal  as 
Blake  was  or  not,  but  anyway  it  seems  that  Blake  got  hard 
up  and  borrowed  fifteen  hundred  dollars  of  this  brother-in- 
law  and  gave  a  mortgage  on  that  place  up  there  for  security. 
"  It  was  more  than  the  ranch  was  worth  at  the  time,  but  I 
reckon  Blake  was  in  a  fix  where  he  had  to  have  that  amount, 
and  as  that  was  all  the  security  he  had  to  give,  his  brother- 
in-law  let  him  have  it.  Maybe  he  never  went  to  look  at  the 
place  at  all,  but  just  took  Blake's  say-so  for  what  the  prop- 
erty was  worth. 

"  Well,  after  a  bit,  Blake,  who  was  always  looking  over 
the  records  to  see  if  he  couldn't  strike  a  lead  of  some  kind, 
happened  to  stumble  onto  the  fact  that  old  Puterbaugh 
hadn't  indexed  that  mortgage,  and  he  made  up  his  mind  to 
sell  the  place  to  somebody  else  and  leave  the  country. 

"  He  knew  no  one  would  be  likely  to  see  the  mortgage 
in  making  an  abstract,  and  if  they  did  discover  it,  why  he 
would  say  it  had  been  paid  and  destroyed,  but  the  party  had 
neglected  to  cancel  it  on  the  records.  Then  he  would 
bluster  around,  pretending  to  be  looking  for  the  party  who 
had. held  it  in  order  to  have  the  matter  fixed  up,  but  would 
never  be  able  to  find  him,  and  pretty  soon  the  man  who  was 
going  to  buy  the  place  would  get  sick  of  waiting  and  go  off 
somewhere  else,  or  buy  another  place,  and  the  whole  thing 
would  be  forgotten. 

"  At  least,  that's  the  way  I  figure  it  all  out,  and  I  reckon 
I  ain't  very  far  from  right." 

"  But  how  does  it  come  that  this  brother-in-law  hasn't 
put  in  a  claim  for  his  interest  money  all  this  time  ? "  .asked 
one  of  the  bystanders.  "  If  his  claim  on  the  place  is  good, 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  27! 

he  has  been  losing  a  pile  of  dust  by  not  collectin'  his  interest 
from  year  to  year." 

"Well,  maybe  so,  and  then  again  maybe  not,"  returned 
the  recorder.  "You  see,  the  improvements  Parsons  has 
put  on  the  place  is  worth  a  good  deal  more  than  the  interest. 
Besides,  this  brother-in-law  may  not  have  known  that  Blake 
had  sold  the  place,  and  was  just  making  it  easy  on  Blake,  as 
he -supposed. 

"  Anyway,  the  mortgage  is  there,  and  if  you'll  step  over 
to  Tom  Anderson's  office  I  guess  you'll  find  that  he  has  the 
job  of  foreclosing  it  in  the  next  term  of  court,  which  begins 
the  second  Monday  of  next  month,  and  that  he  has  already 
sent  notice  to  the  News  for  publication,  as  required  by  law." 

"  It's  an  outrage  on  the  old  man  with  the  crippled 
boy,"  remarked  one,  as  the  crowd  dispersed,  "and  Blake 
ought  to  swing  for  it.  If  he  was  back  again,  I'd  be  one  to 
help  do  it." 

"And  I,"  "and  I,"  "and  I,"  echoed  a  dozen  voices. 

But  Blake  was  not  there,  and  will  doubtless  take  good 
care  never  to  go  back.  If  living  still,  he  is  probably  to  be 
found  in  New  York,  or  some  other  great  city,  running  some 
swindling  institution  by  means  of  which  he  obtains  a  living. 
He  may  even  have  amassed  a  fortune,  and  if  so,  should  be 
looked  for,  if  wanted,  among  the  presidents  of  savings  banks, 
or  managers  of  some  corporate  monopoly,  robbing  the  peo- 
ple under  the  shelter  of  the  law. 


272  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO   SEAJ 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

OVER    THE    RANGE. 

It  was  three  o'clock  on  a  short  October  day  when  John 
Parsons  left  Phippsburg  on  his  return  to  the  cottage  where 
his  wife  and  crippled  boy  awaited  him. 

He  did  not  call  it  home — did  not  think  of  it  as  such  now. 

Another  held  a  claim  against  it  for  all  it  was  worth  in 
money,  and  his  past  experience  led  him  to  expect  no  mercy. 

He  had  not  stopped  to  ascertain  who  held  the  mortgage, 
or  anything  about  it,  further  than  that  it  existed  and  was 
for  a  sum  greater  than  he  could,  by  any  possibility,  raise. 

He  had  no  hope  that  it  might  prove  a  mistake  in  any 
way  ;  that  it  might  have  been  paid  and  not  canceled.  He 
accepted  it  as  what  he  ought  really  to  have  expected  would 
happen  sooner  or  later,  for  he  had  come  to  believe  that  the 
poor,  those  who  labored  in  any  way  for  a  living,  were  looked 
upon  as  legitimate  prey  by  a  set  of  men  who  had  by  some 
means  obtained  control  of  the  courts  and  of  State  and 
National  legislatures,  and  who  in  one  way  or  another — but 
always  under  the  guise  of  law — would  rob  the  people  just  as 
men  rob  the  honey  bees,  taking  the  honey,  but  letting  the 
bees  live,  in  order  that  they  might  store  up  more  honey  for 
the  robbers  when  their  turn  comes  for  being  robbed  again. 
And  so  from  the  first  mention  of  a  mortgage  he  gave  up  all 
hope,  regarding  it  as  but  another  of  the  ways — of  which  ex- 
perience had  taught  him  that  there  were  many — of  taking 
from  him  and  his  their  little  accumulations;  and  but  one 
thought,  one  impulse  remained — to  get  back  where  his  wife 


OR,  JUST    A   CAMPIN  .  273 

and  crippled  boy  were  and  die  in  their  presence  and  with 
them. 

His  brain  seemed  incapable  of  thought.  There  was  a 
numbness  about  his  whole  body  that  made  it  difficult  for  him 
to  retain  his  seat  in  the  saddle,  and  several  persons  who  saw 
him  pass,  swaying  to  and  fro  in  his  seat,  thought  that  for 
once  he  had  been  drinking  and  had  taken  more  liquor  than 
he  could  well  carry. 

But  he  was  not  drunk.     He  was  crushed. 

All  hope  had  fled,  never  to  return  again.  No  ray  of 
light  came  to  him  from  any  source. 

He  paid  no  heed  to  the  inquiring  looks  of  those  whom 
he  met  as  he  passed  through  the  streets  of  the  little  town 
and  took  the  road  leading  up  into  the  mountains;  no  atten- 
tion to  the  guidance  of  the  animal  which  he  rode. 

He  had  no  clearly  defined  idea  of  what  he  should  do  or 
say  when  he  reached  the  spot  where  his  wife  and  Johnny 
were,  or  of  how  they  could  bear  the  terrible  news. 

He  felt  isolated  from  the  entire  world;  was  unconscious 
of  what  was  passing  around  him  or  of  the  rapidly  gathering 
storm  overhead. 

His  one  dim  idea  was  to  get  to  where  his  wife  and  boy 
were;  and  I  think  he  really  expected  that  once  there  they 
would  all  go  away  out  of  the  cottage  and  out  of  the  world — 
that  they  would  all  die  together,  and  at  once. 

There  seemed  to  be  no  place  in  this  world  for  them,  and 
yet  they  were  ordered  to  "move  on."  Where  else  could 
they  go  to  except  to  the  other  world ;  and  who  else  but 
Death  was  to  point  the  way,  or  be  their  guide  upon  the 
journey  ? 

And  Erastus  and  Lucy  were  to  go  too,  and  would  take 
the  little  baby  that  was  not  yet  born,  for  they  were  without 
a  home  also — they,  too,  had  been  ordered  to  "move  on." 
i 


274  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

Then  he  wondered  if  Jennie  and  her  husband  were  to  go 
with  them,  and  he  was  not  quite  sure  about  it.  They  would 
follow  pretty  soon,  of  course;  for  all  who  tried  to  get  their 
living  by  work  would  be  ordered  to  "  move  on  "  sooner  or 
later;  but  it  did  not  appear  that  they  were  to  die  at  once,  as 
he  and  Martha  and  Johnny,  and  Lucy  and  Erastus  and  the 
baby  must  do. 

When  the  clouds,  which  had  been  gathering  all  day, 
broke  at  last,  and  the  rain  poured  down  in  torrents,  he  did 
not  seem  to  know  it. 

He  was  wet  to  the  skin  in  an  instant,  but  he  was  not 
conscious  of  it.  His  rubber  coat  remained  tied  to  the  back 
of  the  saddle,  where  he  had  fastened  it  in  the  morning  before 
starting. 

The  water  ran  from  his  person  and  filled  his  boots,  his 
horse  placed  his  nose  close  to  the  earth  and  plodded  on 
blindly  in  face  of  the  storm,  but  his  rider  sat  the  same,  one 
hand  upon  the  loosened  rein  and  the  other  hanging  idly  at 
his  side;  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ground  just  in  advance, 
but  seeing  nothing,  taking  no  note  of  anything. 

Left  to  his  own  will,  the  horse  plodded  on  through  the 
mud  and  rain  at  a  walk.  Before  they  were  half  way  home 
night  had  set  in — night  as  black  as  clouds  and  falling  rain 
could  make  it. 

Soon  the  water,  still  falling  in  torrents,  began  to  fill  the 
gulches  with  floods  of  the  color  of  clay;  floods  which  bub- 
bled, and  seethed,  and  roared  their  way  down  the  hillsides 
and  across  the  road,  forming  a  frothy  line  of  white,  the  only 
thing  visible  in  the  pitch  darkness. 

And  still  the  horse  plodded  onward,  fording  the  streams 
as  he  came  to  them;  scrambling  up  the  steep  and  slippery 
inclines  where  the  road  wound  round  the  mountain  side, 
avoiding,  either  by  instinct  or  that  peculiar  power  of  seeing 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  275 

in  the  dark  which  some  horses  possess,  the  deep  gullies  cut 
by  the  rushing  water  in  the  clay  of  the  roadbed;  and  still 
the  rider  sat  motionless — save  as  he  swayed  to  and  fro  with 
the  movements  of  the  animal  which  he  rode — and  looked 
straight  forward  into  the  night. 

Suddenly,  when  they  were  about  two-thirds  of  the  way 
up  the  mountain,  there  came  a  flash  of  lightning,  followed  by 
a  clap  of  thunder  which  seemed  to  rend  the  very  earth,  and 
echoed  and  re-echoed  from  peak  to  peak,  and  then  went 
rumbling  down  the  ravines  and  gorges,  finally  dying  out 
miles  and  miles  away  among  the  foot-hills. 

Many  people  have  lived  for  years  in  California  and  never 
heard  a  clap  of  thunder  or  seen  a  vivid  flash  of  lightning. 
A  friend  of  the  author's  who  lived  for  twenty  years,  a  part 
of  the  time  in  the  foot-hills  and  a  part  in  the  valley,  informs 
him  that  never  but  once  in  all  that  time  did  she  know  the 
elements  to  be  thus  at  war. 

It  is  no  wonder,  then,  when  the  flash  of  lightning  came, 
and  the  mountains  shook  with  the  roar  of  the  thunder,  that 
the  steady  old  horse  which  John  Parsons  rode  should  be 
frightened  into  springing  suddenly  to  one  side,  throwing  his 
rider,  and  with  his  nostrils  distended  and  head  and  tail  in 
the  air  dash  away  in  the  darkness,  leaving  him  lying  stunned 
by  the  roadside. 

How  long  he  lay  there  John  Parsons  never  knew;  nobody 
ever  will  know,  unless  the  angels  who  watch  over  each  of  us 
have  made  a  record  of  it  as  part  of  the  account  against  those 
whose  greed  sent  a  fellow  mortal  on  that  journey  up  the 
mountain  through  the  worst  storm  known  for  years,  with  his 
brain  turned  by  the  knowledge  of  his  loss,  and  all  the  blood 
in  his  body  congesting  about  his  heart.  And  if  the  angels 
do  keep  such  account,  there  must  be  added  to  it  the  suffer- 
ings of  Martha  Parsons,  as  she  watches  by  the  cot  of  their 


276  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

crippled  child— grown  dangerously  ill  since  morning— watches 
and  waits,  and  listens  in  vain  for  some  sound  that  shall  tell 
her  that,  through  the  storm  and  the  darkness,  her  husband 
is  safe  at  home  at  last. 

Johnny,  as  his  mother  had  written  Lucy,  had  been  grow- 
ing weaker  for  some  months,  and  had  finally  appeared  so 
bad  that  his  parents  had  taken  alarm  and  called  a  physician; 
but  as  the  lad  seemed  to  rally  under  the  prescription  left  him, 
they  had  ceased  to  fear  any  serious  results.  But  now  that 
the  effect  of  the  medicine  had  spent  itself  the  patient  again 
began  to  sink  rapidly. 

In  the  excitement  of  making  and  signing  the  deed  the 
day  before,  for  which  purpose  a  justice  of  the  peace  had  come 
to  the  cottage  in  person,  and  in  the  departure  of  Mr.  Parsons 
with  the  deed  in  his  pocket  with  the  intention  of  consummat- 
ing the  sale  of  the  place,  the  change  in  Johnny's  condition,  if 
any,  had  not  been  observed;  and  the  lad  made  no  complaint, 
having  come  to  accept  his  crippled  and  weakly  condition  as 
something  which  could  not  be  changed.  Her  husband  had 
not  been  long  gone,  however,  before  Mrs.  Parsons  noticed 
that  Johnny  had  a  slight  fever,  and  at  once  began  to  censure 
herself  for  not  having  observed  it  sooner  and  asked  John  to 
have  the  doctor  come  out,  or  at  least  send  another  prescrip- 
tion. 

It  was  now  too  late  to  do  this  and  she  must  do  the  best 
she  could  alone;  perhaps  after  all  the  fever  would  soon  pass 
off. 

She  prepared  and  gave  the  child  some  simple  household 
remedy,  sponged  his  person  with  tepid  water,  and  sought 
to  amuse  him  by  talking  of  the  coming  journey  to  the  Slough, 
where  Lucy  and  Erastus  were,  and  the  pleasant  time  they 
would  have  when  they  got  there. 

But  the  fever  did  not  go  down;  on  the  contrary  it  became 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  277 

higher  as  the  hours  passed,  until  finally  Mrs.  Parsons  became 
greatly  frightened. 

She  prepared  a  note  to  Dr.  Brenton,  asking  him  to  come 
at  once.  Upon  the  envelope  she  wrote  a  request  that  any 
one  going  to  town  would  deliver  it  into  his  hand.  • 

She  then  fastened  the  letter  to  a  stick,  one  end  of  which 
she  sharpened  with  the  butcher  knife,  and  telling  Johnny  she 
was  going  into  the  yard  and  would  be  back  in  a  few  moments, 
ran  down  to  the  big  road  and  stuck  the  stick,  with  the  letter 
attached,  into  the  ground  where  anyone  passing  would  be 
almost  certain  of  seeing  it.  This  done  she  returned  to  the 
house  as  quickly  as  she  had  gone,  and  waited,  and  watched 
the  one  point  of  the  road  which  was  visible  from  the  window, 
hoping  to  see  pass  a  team  or  a  horseman,  as  an  assurance 
that  the  message  had  found  a  carrier. 

One  team  she  saw  going  in  the  opposite  direction,  but  if 
the  driver  of  it  saw  the  letter  he  made  no  effort  to  forward 
it  to  its  destination,  fancying,  perhaps,  that  someone  going 
to  town  would  soon  pass  and  take  it. 

As  the  afternoon  came  on,  a  new  cause  for  alarm  to  the 
watcher  by  the  cot  of  the  sick  boy  appeared. 

The  clouds  were  gathering  in  a  way  that  betokened  a 
long  continued  and  heavy  rainfall.  What  if  John  should  be 
detained  until  late  by  the  business  on  which  he  had  gone; 
would  he  be  able  to  return  at  night  in  the  midst  of  the  storm 
which  was  approaching  ?  If  not,  how  should  she  get  through 
the  night  all  alone  with  the  sick  child  ? 

Or,  what  if  John  should  attempt  to  come  through  the 
darkness  and  rain  and  should  meet  with  an  accident? 

She  felt  certain  that  he  would  make  the  attempt  to  reach 
home  that  night,  no  matter  what  the  weather  might  be;  but 
would  he  be  able  to  get  through  ?  Would  not  the  ravines 


278  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEAJ 

fill  with  water  and  make  the  road  dangerous,  if  not  absolutely 
impassable  ? 

She  could  not  tell,  she  could  only  wait  and  hope  for  the 
best;  but  every  moment  seemed  an  hour,  for  hours  before 
she  had  any  reason  to  expect  her  husband's  return,  even  if 
he  was  not  delayed  by  the  storm. 

It  was  but  a  little  after  three  o'clock  when  it  began  to 
rain;  but  so  thick  were  the  clouds  that  it  seemed  as  if  night 
were  already  at  hand. 

Johnny  had  dropped  off  into  a  light  sleep  and  she  sat  by 
the  window  that  commanded  a  view  of  the  garden,  the  level 
ground  with  the  ravine  below,  and  the  hills  stretching  away 
towards  Phippsburg  and  the  river. 

The  rain  came  down  in  torrents,  and  she  noticed  how 
quickly  little  rills  formed  and  ran  down  between  the  rows  of 
vegetables  in  the  garden,  and  lost  themselves  in  the  stubble 
field  beyond. 

The  turkeys  and  chickens,  deceived  by  the  unusual  dark- 
ness, had  all  sought  their  roosts,  except  here  and  there  one 
who  had  been  late  about  getting  in  and  now  stood  with 
drooping  tail  feathers  and  a  generally  demoralized  look  be- 
neath the  thick  leaves  of  some  shrub  or  vine. 

Then  it  occurred  to  her  to  save  for  washing  purposes  some 
of  the  water  that  was  falling,  soft  water  being  a  luxury  during 
half  the  year  on  the  mountain;  and  she  threw  an  old  shawl 
about  her  head  and  shoulders  and  went  out  and  set  the  wash 
tub  and  boiler  under  the  eave  spout,  and  saw  them  filled 
almost  before  she  could  turn  back  into  the  kitchen. 

And  now  Johnny  had  wakened  and  was  calling  her. 

She  went  to  him  and  felt  her  heart  give  a  great  throb  as 
she  noticed  that  his  fever  was  higher  than  ever,  and  that  his 
eyes  had  a  strange  look  about  them. 

She  preserved  her  calm  appearance,  ministered  to  his 


OR,  JUST    A   CAMPIN  .  279 

wants,  and  when  he  asked  for  his  father,  told  him  that  he 
had  not  returned  and  that  they  must  not  look  for  him  yet 
awhile,  but  that  he  would  come  by  and  by. 

During  a  partial  lull  in  the  storm  she  ran  out  to  the  shed 
and  milked  the  cows,  which  had  come  up  of  their  own  accord, 
and  were  contentedly  chewing  their  cuds  beneath  the  shelter. 
The  horse  left  at  home  stood  in  his  stall,  and  kept  turning 
his  ears  back  and  sideways,  as  if  to  catch  the  sound  of  his 
returning  mate,  and  she  set  her  milk  pail  upon  the  ground 
and  threw  him  a  bit  of  hay. 

Returning  to  the  house  she  lighted  both  of  the  lamps  and 
took  them  into  the  sitting-room  where  Johnny  lay,  in  order 
to  make  it  seem  as  cheerful  as  possible. 

She  had  kept  the  wood  box  full  of  dry  wood  all  day,  and 
now  she  prepared  everything  for  the  starting  of  a  fire  in  the 
cook  stove,  and  a  little  later,  started  it,  and  put  the  tea- 
kettle on. 

Although  it  was  quite  dark  now,  she  did  not  much  expect 
her  husband  just  yet,  but  wished  to  have  everything  ready  to 
get  him  a  cup  of  hot  tea  the  moment  he  did  come.  She  also 
brought  out  a  suit  of  dry  clothes  and  hung  them  by  the  fire 
ready  for  him  to  put  on. 

She  could  still  see  a  little  distance  through  the  deepening 
gloom,  and  she  observed  that  the  water  had  cut  bits  of 
gulleys  between  the  potato  rows,  and  that  the  stubble  field 
below  had  the  appearance  of  having  become  a  lake. 

The  rain,  too,  instead  of  decreasing  as  the  night  set  in, 
was,  if  possible,  falling  faster  than  ever;  and  she  could  hear 
a  faint  roar  coming  up  from  the  ravine,  and  knew  that  soon 
the  water  would  be  rushing  through  it  in  great  volume,  and 
with  a  force  that  would  overwhelm  any  living  thing  caught  in 
its  path;  and  a  half  dozen  such  ravines  crossed  the  road  over 
which  her  husband  must  pass  in  coming  from  Phippsburg. 


280  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

She  shuddered  as  she  listened,  and  turning  away,  went 
and  sat  down  by  Johnny's  crib  and  tried  to  interest  him  by 
reading  a  little  story  from  a  child's  paper. 

But  the  boy  was  too  sick  to  care  for  hearing  her  read;  he 
wanted  his  father,  and  kept  asking  when  he  would  come,  to 
which  she  could  only  reply  that  they  might  look  for  him  any 
moment  now,  but  that  the  rain  might  make  him  late,  and 
they  must  be  patient. 

And  so  the  hours  wore  on  and  the  rain  continued  to  fall, 
while  every  moment  the  weight  at  her  heart  grew  heavier  and 
more  oppressive. 

Johnny  slept  fitfully,  waking  every  few  moments  and 
always  asking  "if  father  had  not  come. yet,"  or  if  his  mother 
"thought  father  would  come  pretty  soon  now,"  until  the  sud- 
den clap  of  thunder  came,  at  which  he  was  seized  with  an 
awful  fright  and  screamed  again  and  again  with  all  the  force 
of  his  weak  lungs. 

Even  his  mother  was  startled  into  an  involuntary  exclama- 
tion by  the  suddenness  of  the  concussion,  and  for  an  instant 
she  thought  the  cottage  had  been  caught  in  a  land  slide.  She 
controlled  herself  at  the  sound  of  the  child's  cry,  and  bend- 
ing down,  lifted  him  tenderly  in  her  arms,  cuddling  his  poor 
wasted  form  to  her  breast  as  if  he  had  been  but  a  babe. 

It  was  only  with  difficulty  that  she  checked  his  screams, 
and  even  then  he  was  so  fearful  and  nervous,  and  sobbed  and 
begged  so  piteously  for  his  father,  that  it  was  only  by  calling 
to  her  aid  all  the  fortitude  which  she  possessed,  that  Martha 
Parsons  was  herself  enabled  to  keep  from  breaking  down. 

It  was  an  hour  before  Johnny  was  sufficiently  calm  to  be 
again  laid  in  his  crib. 

As  soon  as  she  could  leave  his  side  for  a  moment  she  went 
to  the  window  and  tried  to  peer  out  into  the  darkness. 

She  had  placed  one  of  the  lamps  in  the  window  some 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMP1N*.  281 

hours  before,  hoping  that  it  might  prove  a  beacon  to  guide 
her  husband  if  he  was  still  living,  which-she  was  almost  ready 
to  doubt,  so  utterly  desolate  all  things  seemed. 

Pressing  her  face  close  to  the  glass  she  endeavored  to 
penetrate  the  awful  gloom;  but  could  only  see  for  a  few  feet 
into,  the' darkness. 

The  rays  of  light  from  the  lamps  had  power  to  penetrate 
no  farther. 

It  seemed  to  her,  as  she  stood  there,  straining  her  eyes  in 
a  vain  effort  to  see,  that  the  darkness  was  a  living  thing  and 
that  it  devoured  the  rays  of  light  bodily,  or  contended  with 
them  and  slew  them  as  they  strove  to  make  headway  against 
the  night. 

When  the  lamp  burned  low  for  an  instant,  and  the  light 
sent  out  through  the  window  was  less  strong,  she  was  almost 
sure  she  saw  the  darkness  put  out  its  hands  and  grasp  the 
rays  of  light  and  strangle  them. 

Mingled  with  the  steady  swish  of  the  falling  rain,  the  roar 
of  the  water  rushing  through  the  ravine  now  came  clear  and 
distinct,  and  knowing  it  was  all  one's  life  was  worth  to 
attempt  to  cross  it,  she  gave  up  all  hope  of  seeing  her  hus- 
band that  night,  if  ever  again,  and  only  prayed  that  he  might 
be  in  a  place  of  safety,  and  out  of  the  reach  of  the  elements 
that  appeared  as  if  about  to  swallow  up  the  mountain. 

It  was  a  little  past  midnight,  and  Johnny  had  again  drop- 
ped off  into  a  light  sleep,  when  from  the  direction  of  the  gate 
opening  into  the  enclosure  came  the  sound  of  a  horse  neigh- 
ing. 

The  watcher  within  listened  intently,  and  with  new  hope 
springing  up  in  her  breast. 

Was  it  possible,  after  all,  that  John  had  returned;  that  he 
had  passed  safely  through  the  darkness  and  the  "floods  and 
reached  home  at  last  ? 


282  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

Yes,  there  was  the  sound  of  the  horse  walking  past  the 
window  at  the  upper  end  of  the  house,  where  Mr.  Parsons 
was  in  the  habit  of  riding  through  to  the  stable. 

"  Poor  dear,  what  an  awful  time  he  must  have  had  com- 
ing through  the  storm,"  she  said  softly,  as  she  rose  hurriedly 
and  went  to  light  the  lantern. 

Opening  the  kitchen  door  she  held  the  lantern  in  a  way 
which  she  hoped  would  afford  her  husband  some  assistance 
in  putting  out  his  animal;  if  not,  would  at  least  help  him  in 
getting  to  the  house. 

She  heard  the  whinny  with  which  the  horse  in  the  stable 
welcomed  his  returned  mate,  and  expected  every  moment  to 
hear  the  stable  door  open  and  close,  and  the  footsteps  of  her 
husband  as  he  made  his  way  towards  her. 

After  waiting  several  moments  and  hearing  nothing  fur- 
ther she  began  to  be  frightened  and  finally  called  softly, 

"John!  John!" 

Getting  no  reply,  she  caught  up  an  old  garment  of  some 
kind,  threw  it  about  her  shoulders,  and  holding  the  lantern 
above  her  head  made  her  way  through  the  rain  to  the  stable. 

The  horse  which  her  husband  had  ridden  stood  at  the 
door  waiting  to  be  let  in,  but  she  could  see  nothing  of  his 
rider. 

She  listened  a  moment  and  then  again  called — low  at 
first  and  then  with  all  her  might, 

"John!  O-oh  John!" 

The  weary,  drenched  and  mud-bespattered  horse  lifted 
his  head  and  gave  a  low  whinny,  but  no  other  answer  came 
to  her  call, 

"John!  O-o-oh  John!" 

She  listened;  but  only  the  swish  of  the  rain,  falling  in 
literal  sheets,  and  the  dull  roar  of  the  swollen  waters  in  the 
ravine  below,  reached  her  ears. 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN*.  283 

And  now  she  noticed  that  the  horse's  bridle-rein  was 
dragging. 

Had  he  thrown  his  master,  or  had  John  dismounted  in 
order  the  better  to  keep  the  road,  and  by  some  means  per- 
mitted the  animal  to  escape  him? 

She  examined  the  bridle-rein  and  found  it  broken,  and 
she  felt  certain  that  the  horse  had  thrown  her  husband  and 
afterwards  stepped  upon  the  rein  and  broken  it. 

Then  John  was  dead.  The  father  of  her  crippled  boy, 
her  companion  for  so  many  years,  was  drowned,  it  might  be 
in  the  angry  waters  that  even  now  were  pouring  through  the 
gorge  with  the  roar  of  a  demon.  Or  he  was  lying  in  the 
road,  cold  and  stiff,  with  his  lifeless  eyes  staring  up  into  the 
blackened  heavens,  the  pitiless  rain  beating  upon  his 
face. 

Such  were  the  thoughts  that  burned  their  way  through 
the  brain  of  Martha  Parsons  as  she  stood  dumbly  looking  at 
the  broken  rein  by  the  dim  light  of  the  lantern. 

The  impatient  pawing  of  the  horse,  demanding  to  be  let 
under  shelter,  recalled  her  to  a  knowledge  of  her  surround- 
ings, and  quite  mechanically  she  opened  the  stable  door. 
The  horse  entered,  rubbed  his  nose  against  that  of  his  fellow 
and  began  at  once  to  eat  from  the  bin  in  front  of  him. 

Mrs.  Parsons  followed  him  in,  removed  the  saddle  and 
bridle,  and  taking  the  lantern  from  the  floor  where  she  had 
set  it,  retraced  her  steps  through  the  storm  to  the  house. 

Fortunately,  Johnny  had  not  wakened  sufficiently  to  note 
her  absence,  and  was  unaware  of  the  return  of  the  horse 
without  his  father,  and  she  could  sit  down  and  think  what 
to  do. 

What  could  she  do  ? 

Over  and  over  again  she  asked  herself  this  question. 

It  was  two  miles  to  the  nearest  neighbors,  and  between 


284  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

ran  the  gorge,  in  attempting  to  cross  which,  perhaps,  John 
had  lost  his  life. 

It  was  too  dark  to  see  more  than  a  few  feet  ahead  of  one, 
even  by  the  aid  of  a  lantern,  and  if  that  were  to  go  out,  it 
would  leave  her  in  utter  inability  to  return. 

Besides,  there  was  the  sick  child,  who  would  scream  him- 
self to  death  if  he  wakened  and  found  himself  alone  in  the 
house. 

And  just  then  he  did  waken,  and  she  went  to  him  and 
gave  him  the  water  he  asked  for,  and  induced  him  to  again 
close  his  eyes  and  sleep,  doing  it  all  without  showing  the  ter- 
rible agony  at  her  heart,  or  saying  a  word  about  the  return 
of  the  horse  without  his  rider. 

When  she  thought  Johnny  asleep,  she  arose  and  went  into 
the  kitchen.  She  did  not  dare  to  remain  in  the  room  with 
the  child  lest  he  should  suddenly  open  his  eyes  and  see  the 
agony  which  she  felt  she  could  no  longer  suppress. 

There  was  nothing  she  could  do  for  her  husband,  living  or 
dead,  except  to  kee'p  the  lamp  burning  in  the  window  as  a 
beacon,  in  case,  as  was  just  possible,  he  had  been  thrown 
after  crossing  the  gorge,  and  was  now  wandering  about  in  the 
darkness. 

But  for  Johnny  she  would  have  set  out  to  follow  the  road 
back  towards  town,  hoping  to  find  some  trace  of  her  husband, 
but  to  do  so  and  leave  Johnny  when  there  was  so  little  chance 
of  any  good  coming  of  it,  was  not  to  be  seriously  thought 
of.  She  must  wait  until  daylight,  and  then — even  then  what 
could  she  do  ?  If  the  rain  should  cease  it  would  still  be 
days  and  maybe  weeks  before  any  one  would  be  likely  to 
visit  the  cottage. 

But  this  fact  did  not  change  matters.  There  was  posi- 
tively nothing  she  could  do  except  to  wait  and  keep  the  lamp 
in  the  window  burning  as  brightly  as  possible. 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN*.  285 

For  many  moments  she  sat  motionless,  and  then  stole 
quietly  to  the  side  of  her  child,  whom  she  found  much  as  he 
had  been  for  some  hours  past — sleeping  uneasily  and  with 
considerable  fever. 

As  she  was  slipping  from  the  sick  room  again,  she  heard 
a  noise  as  if  some  one  were  fumbling  at  the  kitchen  door  in 
a  vain  endeavor  to  find  the  latch. 

She  listened  with  a  feeling  of  returning  hope,  mingled 
with  a  horrible,  superstitious  dread  ;  the  latter  born  of  her 
excited  condition,  and  the  terrible  dreariness  of  her  sur- 
roundings. 

The  sound  continued  until  she  could  not  be  mistaken ;  it 
was  someone  trying  to  open  the  door,  and  who  else  could  it 
be  but  her  husband  ?  With  a  feeling  of  faintness,  as  if  she 
had  suddenly  been  caught  as  she  was  about  to  drop  into  a 
horrible  abyss,  she  hastened  to  lift  the  latch. 

As  she  did  so,  a  form  covered  with  mud,  hatless,  and  with 
a  look  of  death  upon  his  face  and  in  his  eyes,  entered. 

For  an  instant  she  did  not  recognize  the  form  as  that  of 
her  husband,  but  when  he  staggered  forward  into  the  light 
and  sank  upon  a  chair,  she  saw  that  it  was  he,  and  in  an  in- 
stant she  was  at  his  side,  striving  to  remove  his  storm-soaked 
garments. 

"  Tell  me  where  you  are  hurt,  John  ;  tell  me  what  to  do, 
quick,"  she  said.  "Are  you  wounded  anywhere,  or  only  ter- 
ribly bruised  by  your  fall  ?  Tell  me  quick,  so  I  can  help 
you." 

But  he  only  stared  at  her  and  made  no  reply. 

"John,  John,"  she  cried,  now  doubly  alarmed,  "what  is 
it  ?  where  is  it  ?  tell  me,  dear.  Is  it  your  head  that 
hurts  ? " 

He  looked  at  her  so  strangely  that  she  thought  he  must 
have  been  crazed  by  a  blow  upon  the  head. 


"DO  YOU  THINK  THEY'LL  LET  us  STAY  TILL  MORNIN'?" 
286 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  287 

Slowly  he  raised  his  hand  at  last  and  drew  it  across  his 
forehead. 

"  I  d'know,  Marty,"  he  said  in  a  hesitating  tone,  "  I 
reckon — I  d'know — exactly  what  is  the  matter." 

He  still  sat  gazing  at  her  with  that  strange  look  in  his 
eyes,  as  if  he  was  not  certain  of  where  he  was. 

Mrs.  Parsons  hurriedly  placed  the  tea-kettle  back  on  the 
stove,  where  it  instantly  began  to  sing,  and  a  moment  later 
had  a  cup  of  tea  prepared. 

Then  she  came  and  put  her  arm  about  her  husband's  neck, 
paying  no  attention  to  his  filthy  garments,  while  she  held  the 
cup  to  his  lips. 

"  Drink  this,  dear,"  she  said,  "  and  then  I'll  get  your  wet 
clothes  off  and  get  you  to  bed  and  you  will  feel  better." 

He  took  a  sip  of  the  tea  and  then,  looking  up  at  his  wife 
as  she  bent  over  him,  asked: 

"  Do  you  think  they'll  let  us  stay  till  mornin'?  " 

And  Martha  Parsons  tried  to  keep  her  voice  from  trem- 
bling and  make  it  sound  cheerful  as  she  answered:  "Oh  yes, 
dear,  they  said  we  could  stay  until  morning." 

She  saw  that  he  was  out  of  his  head  and  knew  that  the 
better  way  was  to  humor  any  fancy  of  his  brain,  and  hoping 
that  if  she  could  get  him  to  bed  and  apply  hot  draughts  to 
his  person,  he  might  recover  his  mind  in  a  few  hours. 

"  Then  I  reckon  we  had  better  stay,"  he  said.  "  It'ud  be 
mortal  hard  on  you  an'  Johnny  to  hev  to  leave  in  this  storm. 
I  hope  they'll  let  Lucy  an'  Rastus  stay  till  mornin',  too." 

She  finally  succeeded  in  undressing  him  and  getting  him 
into  bed,  where  he  lay  staring  at  her  as  she  moved  about, 
preparing  hot  draughts  and  placing  them  upon  his  head  and 
feet,  and  across  his  chest. 

Johnny  had  awakened  when  his  father  came,  and  tried  to 
call  him,  but  being  told  by  his  mother  that  his  father  had 


288  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

fallen  from  his  horse  and  was  hurt,  and  that  he  must  keep 
quiet,  he  had  done  so,  though  his  eyes  were  big  with  fear, 
and  with  the  fever,  which  had  come  up  higher  than  ever. 

Occasionally,  as  she  worked  over  her  husband,  chafing 
his  limbs  and  changing  the  cloths  and  vessels  of  hot  water 
with  which  she  had  surrounded  him,  he  would  mutter  some- 
thing about  "  the  mortgage,"  or  "  the  mines,"  or  about  "  Lucy 
and  Erastus,"  and  once  she  thought  he  spoke  the  names  of 
Jennie  and  her  husband,  but  she  gathered  nothing  from  what 
he  said  of  the  loss  of  their  home,  and  supposed  that  his  con- 
dition was  the  result  of  a  fall  from  his  horse,  and  of  being  so 
long  exposed  to  the  storm. 

His  limbs  were  cold  and  she  feared  he  was  going  into  a 
nervous  chill,  and  worked  with  all  her  might  to  restore  the 
circulation,  but  in  spite  of  her  efforts  he  continued  to  sink. 

His  eyes  would  close  for  a  few  moments  and  then  open 
again  suddenly,  but  never  with  any  sign  of  a  clear  percep- 
tion of  his  condition  or  surroundings,  but  only  to  mutter 
something  about  "campin'  out,"  and  "the  mines,"  and  "the 
children,"  until  just  before  day  began  to  break,  when  he 
aroused  from  the  lethargy  into  which  he  was  fast  sinking, 
made  an  effort  to  rise,  fell  back,  tried  again  and  succeeded 
in  getting  upon  his  elbow,  stared  about  the  room,  and  at 
Johnnyls  crib,  and  then  with  the  wild  look  in  his  eyes  and 
upon  his  face  changing  to  one  which  showed  that  he  recog- 
nized his  surroundings,  he  again  sank  back  upon  his  pillow 
and  made  a  sign  for  his  wife  to  come  closer. 

As  she  bent  over  him  he  strove  to  speak,  and  finally  said 
brokenly: 

"'Tain't  —  no  —  use,  Marty.  My — my  —  lead — is  —  is 
worked  out,  and  our — our  claim's  been  jumped  agin." 

He  struggled  for  breath,  his  eye-balls  turned  upward  and 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  289 

he  choked,  but  seemed  to  rally  his  expiring  energies  for  a 
farewell  message,  and  added: 

"  I — I'm  goin' — goin'  over  the  range,  to — to  stake  out  a 
new  claim,  an'  you  an'  Johnny  an' — an' the  rest  will  find — find 
me  waitin'  when  you  come." 

A  great  shiver  shook  his  frame,  his  breast  heaved  with  a 
long  drawn  sigh,  and  the  spirit  of  John  Parsons  had  gone 
ahead  to  prospect  for  a  home  for  his  loved  ones  in  the  other 
country,  of  which  we  know  so  little  and  hope  so  much. 


gpO  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

CHAPTER   XXVI. 

"TAKE  ME  UP,  PAPA!" 

Daylight  came  at  last;  came  slowly,  as  if  it  were  forced 
to  contend  with  the  unwilling  darkness  for  master}7;  and  even 
then  the  clouds  did  not  lift,  or  the  rain  cease  its  steady 
down-pour. 

Martha  Parsons  never  knew  whence  came  the  strength 
that  enabled  her  to  close  the  eyes  of  her  dead  husband,  or  to 
continue  existence  when  she  had  done  so. 

One  was  dead,  but  one  yet  lived,  and  living,  needed  her 
care.  While  that  life  continued  she  felt  that  her  strength 
would  continue  also,  and  beyond  that  she  neither  thought 
nor  cared.  When  his  father's  spirit  took  its  flight,  and  after- 
wards, while  she  was  caring  for  the  dead  body — straighten- 
ing out  the  limbs  and  folding  the  arms  across  the  breast — 
Johnny  lay  in  his  cot  and  watched  his  mother  without  a  word 
or  a  cry,  but  with  a  look  half  of  awe  and  half  of  surprise, 
as  if  he  had  seen  the  flight  of  the  spirit  and  understood  why 
and  whither  it  had  gone.  And  when  all  was  done  and  the  cot 
in  which  he  lay  had  been  wheeled  into  the  kitchen,  where  the 
fire  burning  in  the  stove,  gave  a  little  more  cheerful  look  to 
the  room,  he  still  asked  no  questions  and  made  no  com- 
plaint. 

His  mother  found  herself  wondering  if  Johnny  knew  that 
his  father  was  dead,  but  could  think  of  no  way  of  ascertain- 
ing without  herself  imparting  the  information  if  he  did  not 
already  possess  it,  and  this  she  feared  to  do  lest  it  should 
cause  his  spirit  to  follow  that  of  his  father. 


OR,  JUST  A  c AMPIN'.  291 

"  If  only  we  could  both  go,"  were  the  words  that  kept 
swelling  up  in  her  heart,  and  seeking  utterance  at  her  lips. 

Then  remembering  what  Lucy  had  written;  that  if  possi- 
ble her  mother  should  come  to  them  before  her  babe  was 
born,  that  she  might  be  with  her  in  her  hour  of  trial,  she  felt 
anew  that  she  must  live  for  the  sake  of  her  children. 

But  what  was  she  to  do  ?  How  could  she  obtain  help  to 
bury  the  dead,  or  a  physician  for  the  sick  child  ? 

The  rain  might  continue  for  a  week,  and  already  com- 
munication was  cut  off  with  all  who  lived  below,  if  not  with 
those  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountain,  and  she  dared  not 
leave  Johnny  to  go  for  help,  even  if  she  could  make  her  way 
through  the  floods. 

She  did  leave  him  for  a  few  moments,  long  enough  to  go 
to  the  stable  and  throw  feed  to  the  animals.  She  did  not 
milk  the  cows,  did  not  dare  leave  the  child  long  enough  for 
that,  but  the  horses  she  must  feed,  for  she  might  need  one 
to  ride  for  help,  and  he  must  be  strong  to  contend  with  the 
torrents  which  would  have  to  be  crossed  if  she  did  go. 

Johnny's  fever  had  gone  down  a  little  again  now.  She 
watched  him  with  all  possible  care  and  tried  to  appear  cheer- 
ful, and  even  to  talk  with  him  as  usual,  but  he  answered  her 
with  such  a  strange  look  of  questioning,  making  no  reply  in 
words,  that  she  was  still  in  doubt  if  he  knew  what  had  taken 
place,  and  finally  ceased  to  talk  to  him  except  to  ask  him  to 
take  medicine  or  food. 

The  medicine  he  swallowed  without  Opposition,  but  the 
food  he  rejected  utterly  and  could  not  be  persuaded  to  take 
a  mouthful. 

About  noon  she  made  a  cup  of  tea  for  herself  and  tried 
to  eat,  but  found  it  almost  impossible  to  do  so,  although  she 
had  eaten  nothing  for  twenty-four  hours,  and  it  was  only  by 
telling  herself  that  she  must  eat  in  order  to  keep  up  her 


2Q2  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

strength  until  help  came  that  she  was  enabled  to  swallow 
anything. 

She  dared  not  think  how  long  it  might  be  before  help 
came;  but,  come  it  late  or  early,  she  must  keep  up  until  that 
time. 

She  tried  to  think  of  some  way  of  hoisting  a  signal  of 
distress,  as  she  had  read  of  shipwrecked  mariners  doing  at 
sea,  but  could  not. 

She  watched  the  one  place  in  the  road  which  could  be 
seen  from  the  kitchen  window,  but  she  saw  no  one  pass. 

No  one  could  pass  the  gorge,  now  a  roaring,  noisy  tor- 
rent, with  a  depth  and  power  that  made  fording  it  a  matter 
of  impossibility. 

And  so  the  minutes  and  the  hours  dragged  slowly  by,  and 
the  rain  continued  to  fall. 

Night  closed  in  early,  owing  to  the  darkened  heavens, 
and  she  lit  the  lamps,  placing  one  in  the  room  with  the  dead, 
the  other  on  a  stand  near  the  cot  of  the  living,  and  sat  down 
by  the  side  of  her  child  to  watch  him  die. 

That  he  would  die  before  the  morning  came  she  knew, 
and  she  wondered  at  her  ability  to  act  coolly,  or  to  act  at  all. 

All  through  the  fore  part  of  the  night  she  sat  watching 
every  movement  of  the  hands,  every  rise  and  fall  of  the  chest, 
every  trembling  of  the  eyelids,  utterly  unconscious  of  any 
weariness  in  her  own  frame. 

She  kept  a  fire  burning  in  the  stove,  and  every  little  while 
gave  the  dying  child  a  few  drops  of  some  liquid  preparation 
which  she  had  made,  as  the  only  thing  she  could  do  to  pro- 
long life. 

The  child  slept  almost  continually  now,  and  when  he 
awoke,  made  no  effort  to  speak,  but  the  questioning  look 
which  had  been  there  since  his  father's  death,  had  not  left  his 
eyes. 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  293 

As  midnight  approached,  she  saw  the  increasing  evidences 
of  approaching  death,  and  knelt  by  the  side  of  the  cot  with 
one  arm  under  the  pillow  on  which  her  child's  head  lay. 

His  breathing  was  less  regular  now,  and  weaker,  coming 
in  little  quivering  sighs  and  half-formed  sobs. 

He  was  awake,  and  had  been  for  some  moments.  At  last 
his  eyes  were  open  and  he  seemed  to  be  looking  at  her,  but 
when  she  asked  him  if  "  there  was  anything  mother  could  do 
for  her  poor  sick  darling,"  he  only  smiled  the  faintest  little 
smile  possible,  and  made  no  effort  to  speak. 

She  remained  kneeling  for  more  than  an  hour,  now  rais- 
ing now  lowering  his  head  a  little  as  seemed  to  make  his 
breathing  easier,  until  just  as  the  clock  struck  one,  a  look  of 
surprise  overspread  his  face,  and  slowly  raising  one  arm,  he- 
placed  it  about  his  mother's  neck,  allowed  it  to  rest  there  for 
an  instant,  then  slowly  removed  it,  lifted  both  hands  as  if  to 
someone  unseen  by  her,  murmured  faintly,  "  Take  me  up, 
papa  !  "  sank  back  into  his  mother's  arms,  and  was  gone. 

When  again  the  daylight  came,  two  dead  bodies  were 
lying  in  the  best  room  of  the  cottage  on  the  mountain  side; 
one  upon  the  bed,  with  a  white  counterpane  drawn  about  it, 
and  one  in  the  little  cot,  clothed  in  a  white  robe  of  some  soft 
stuff  once  worn  by  the  living,  but  which  had  lain  unused  in 
the  bureau  drawers  for  years,  and  which  the  mother's  hands 
had  fashioned  into  a  shroud  during  the  hours  which  had 
intervened. 

Very  peaceful  was  the  look  on  either  face  as  they  lay 
there.  All  trace  of  suffering  and  care  had  fled,  and  in  their 
place  was  a  look  of  rest  and  perfect  peace. 

At  least  so  thought  the  weary,  loving  woman,  who,  bend- 
ing down  to  kiss  each  in  turn,  felt  strangely  comforted, 
although  her  heart  seemed  breaking. 

When  daylight  had  fully  come  she  went  out  and  fed  the 


"  TAKE  ME    UP,    PAPA!" 
994 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  295 

animals  and  fowls,  and  milked  the  cows;  leaving  the  dead 
where  they  lay,  and  as  her  own  hands  had  cared  for  them. 

She  felt  compelled  to  do  this,  partly  out  of  sympathy 
with  the  dumb  brutes  who  must  suffer  without  human  care, 
but  more  from  a  feeling  that  John  would  have  her  do  it. 
For  had  she  not  always  cared  for  the  animals  when  he 
chanced  to  be  away  and  there  was  no  one  else  to  attend  to 
them-?  And  now  that  he  was  absent  never  to  return,  she  did 
not  feel.that  it  made  any  difference;  he  would  still  want  her 
to  care  for  them. 

When  this  was  done  she  returned  to  the  house,  made  a 
cup  of  tea  and  forced  herself  to  eat  a  little,  for  her  work  was 
not  yet  finished  and  she  must  have  strength. 

Then  she  went  about  putting  the  house  in  order,  and  in 
taking  down  the  clothes  which  her  husband  had  on  when  he 
camevhome  wet  and  dying,  Lucy's  letter  fell  out  and  she 
picked  it  up  and  read  it,  and  reading,  understood  all,  or 
thought  she  did. 

It  was  the  knowledge  that  their  children  were  to  be  driven 
out  as  they  themselves  had  so  often  been  that  had  killed 
John;  that  and  some  trouble  about  their  own  home.  She 
did  not  know  what  this  trouble  was,  but  finding  the  deed  in 
his  pocket  she  knew  that  the  place  had  not  been  sold,  and 
putting  that  knowledge  with  the  words  muttered  by  her  hus- 
band in  his  delirium,  she  guessed  that  someone  laid  claim  to 
the  cottage  in  which  she  watched  her  dead. 

But  nothing  now  had  power  to  add  to  her  sufferings. 
Her  cup  was  already  full  and  could  contain  no  more ;  so 
these  added  wrongs,  whatever  they  might  prove  to  be,  could 
not  make  her  sorrows  greater. 

She  put  the  letter  in  the  bureau  drawer  where  all  letters 
from  the  children  were  kept,  finished  tidying  up  the  house, 
kissed  again  the  cold  faces  of  her  dead  and  went  out,  care- 


296  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

fully  closing  and  fastening  the  door  behind  her,  and  going 
to  the  stable,  saddled  a  horse  and  prepared  to  ride  in  search 
of  help. 

It  was  still  raining,  but  in  a  mild  kind  of  way,  as  if  each 
particular  drop  half  repented  of  having  decided  to  fall  upon 
the  already  water-soaked  earth. 

The  gullies  upon  the  mountain  side  had  been  widened 
and  deepened,  and  new  ones  had  been  cut  through  the  cul- 
tivated ground  below. 

The  grape-vines  were  half  denuded  of  their  foliage,  and 
what  remained  hung  listless,  as  if  drowned  in  the  flood.  The 
rose  leaves  lay  scattered  beneath  their  draggled  bushes,  the 
fruit  trees  drooped  their  slender  twigs,  and  all  nature  seemed 
as  if  it  had  had  a  surfeit  of  weeping. 

The  waters  filled  the  ravine  below,  and  overflowing,  had 
covered  the  stubble  field  and  extended  half  way  to  tHt  cot- 
tage. 

A  few  turkeys  and  chickens,  weary  with  their  long  con- 
finement, were  strolling  about  in  a  disconsolate  kind  of  man- 
ner, and  with  a  look  that  seemed  to  say  that  they  were  tired 
of  life  and  ready  to  be  eaten  if  anybody  could  get  up  an 
appetite  in  such  abominable  weather. 

Leading  the  animal  she  had  chosen  to  ride  to  a  block  near 
the  kitchen  door,  she  mounted  him  and  rode  away. 

At  the  main  road  she  turned  to  the  right,  knowing  that  it 
would  be  folly  to  attempt  to  ford  the  ravine,  and  having  de- 
cided to  go  further  up  the  mountain  and  try  to  reach  the  cot- 
tage of  some  people  living  on  the  other  side  of  the  divide, 
reasoning  that  the  higher  up  she  went  the  less  would  be  the 
volume  of  water  in  the  ravines. 

She  found  the  road  almost  impassable  in  places,  and  once 
was  nearly  carried  away  by  the  force  of  a  stream  which  she 
was  compelled  to  cross,  but  finally  succeeded  without  injury 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN'.  297 

to  herself  or  horse  in  reaching  the  shanty  of  a  settler,  and 
told  the  object  of  her  coming. 

She  wanted  help  to  bury  her  dead,  and  she  wanted  some 
one  to  go  to  the  nearest  post-office  and  mail  a  letter  to  Eras- 
tus  and  Lucy,  and  another  to  Jennie  and  her  husband. 

These  letters  she  had  written  during  the  night  after 
Johnny  died,  sitting  in  the  room  where  her  dead  lay. 

They  were  brief,  for  no  words  came  to  her  in  which  to 
tell  of  her  sorrow,  or  her  awful  loneliness;  but  in  a  few  sen- 
tences she  had  told  what  had  occurred. 

She  found  heartfelt  sympathy  and  ready  help  in  those  of 
whom  she  had  come  to  seek  it. 

They  would  have  had  her  remain  there  while  they,  with 
other  neighbors,  cared  for  the  dead  ;  but  she  would  not 
listen. 

So -long  as  anything  remained  to  be  done  for  her  loved 
ones  she  would  help  do  it.  She  could  not  leave  them  even 
to  the  care  of  those  who  had  known  and  respected  them  while 
living,  and  despite  all  they  could  say,  ro^e  back  alone,  while 
the  neighbor  went  to  secure  other  assistance,  and  his  son 
prepared  to  make  an  attempt  to  reach  some  point  from  which 
to  mail  the  letters. 

When  she  reached  the  cottage  on  her  return  she  put  her 
horse  in  the  stable,  unsaddled  him  and  fed  both  him  and  his 
mate,  and  then  went  into  the  house. 

A  few  moments  later  several  neighbors,  both  men  and 
women,  came  and  remained  until  the  next  day,  when  the 
bodies  of  her  husband  and  child  were  placed  in  the  vehicles 
in  which  they  were  to  be  conveyed  to  the  little  burying 
ground  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountain. 

The  gray-haired  minister  who  had  married  Lucy  and 
Erastus  two  years  before,  again  came  to  the  cottage  to  say  a 
few  words  over  the  bodies  of  the  dead,  trying  to  find  Ian- 


298  DRIVEN   FROM   SEA    TO   SEA; 

guage  which  would  convey  a  little  comfort  to  the  one  lone 
mourner  who  was  so  dear  to  them  while  living ;  but  she 
scarcely  heard  his  words,  and  did  not  at  all  "comprehend 
what  he  was  saying. 

She  had  no  thought  but  that  her  dear  ones  were  better  off. 

Her  husband,  she  knew,  had  been  an  upright  man,  and 
had  followed  Christ's  teachings  in  that  he  always  preferred 
to  suffer  rather  than  do  wrong  to  another  ;  and  Johnny 
surely  could  have  done  no  grievous  wrong. 

No,  she  was  not  fearful  of  their  condition  in  the  life  upon 
which  they  had  entered,  but  now  that  the  hour  was  approach- 
ing in  which  she  could  do  no  more,  even  for  their  dead 
bodies,  she  felt  her  strength  giving  way,  and  when  they  had 
been  laid  side  by  side  in  their  one  grave,  and  the  words 
"  dust  to  dust  and  ashes  to  ashes  "  had  been  spoken  and  the 
few  neighbors  present  turned  away,  they  saw  her  falling  to 
the  earth  unconscious,  and  kindly  and  lovingly  they  carried 
her  in  their  arms  to  the  nearest  house. 

Before  reaching  there  she  had  revived  and  insisted  on 
being  carried  back  to  the  cottage  whence  her  beloved 
ones  had  been  taken,  and  only  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  and 
the  dangerous  condition  of  the  roads  after  night-fall,  induced 
her  to  relinquish  her  design. 

Even  this  would  not  have  deterred  her  had  they  not  made 
her  feel  that  she  would  risk  other  lives  than  her  own,  since 
they  would  not  permit  her  to  go  alone  if  nothing  could 
induce  her  to  remain. 

Thus  urged,  she  consented  to  remain  until  morning,  but 
nothing  that  could  be  said  could  induce  her  to  stay  longer. 
No  offer  of  any  one  to  make  their  house  her  home  until  she 
heard  from  Erastus  and  Lucy  would  she  accept. 

Erastus  would  come  as  soon  as  they  got  her  letter,  she 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  299 

knew,  and  she  would  wait  for  him  at  the  old  place  on  the 
mountain  side. 

So  they  took  her  there,  and  two  of  the  neighbors  re- 
mained through  the  first  day  and  night,  and  when  they  went 
away,  they  sent  an  elderly  woman  of  the  neighborhood,  noted 
for  her  kindness  in  sickness  and  in  death,  to  remain  with  her 
until  Erastus  should  come. 

This,  she  told  them,  was  unnecessary;  she  did  not  fear 
being  alone,  and  was  quite  able  to  do  what  little  there  was  to 
be  done  in  taking  care  of  the  stock  and  poultry. 

But  they  would  not  listen  to  it,  and  so  the  woman  staid, 
and  every  day  others  came  to  see  if  there  was  anything  that 
the  two  needed,  but  there  was  seldom  anything  that  they 
could  do. 

Mrs.  Parsons  had  learned  from  others  the  full  extent  of 
the  misfortune  regarding  the  mortgage,  and  knew  that  the 
place  must  go,  but  this  did  not  worry  her. 

If  she  had  still  possessed  it,  Erastus  and  Lucy  could  have 
come  and  lived  with  her,  but  since  she  did  not,  she  would  go 
to  them,  that  was  all  the  difference. 

And  if  they  were  forced  to  leave  their  own  ranch,  why, 
they  would  find  shelter  somewhere  else;  it  did  not  greatly 
matter  where.  A  part  had  gone  on  ahead  to  the  country 
beyond  the  grave,  and  the  rest  would  follow  before  very  long. 
All  her  thoughts  were  centered  there  now,  and  it  mattered 
little  what  became  of  earthly  interests. 

It  was  a  full  week  before  Erastus  came. 

The  letter  had  been  delayed  a  few  days  on  account  of  the 
flood,  and  then  had  remained  another  day  uncalled  for  in  the 
office,  for  while  the  dead  were  being  laid  away  upon  the 
mountain  side,  a  new  life  was  being  ushered  in  at  the 
Slough. 


300  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

The  same  day  on  which  the  letter  was  received  sa\v 
Erastus  start;  Lucy  and  the  baby,  both  of  whom  were  doing 
well,  being  left  in  the  care  of  Mrs.  Johnson  and  another 
neighboring  woman. 

He  reached  Phippsburg  by  the  morning  boat  and  had  no 
difficulty  in  finding  means  of  getting  out  to  the  cottage,  for 
the  calamity  which  had  befallen  the  Parsons  family  was  in 
every  mouth,  and  there  were  numbers  who  were  ready  to 
offer  assistance  to  one  who  came  to  care  for  the  lonely  woman 
who  had  endured  such  suffering. 

Mrs.  Parsons  saw  him  coming  up  the  lane  and  met  him  in 
the  yard  in  front  of  the  cottage. 

Up  to  this  moment  she  had  not  shed  a  tear,  and  not  a 
sob  had  choked  her  utterance,  but  great  black  rings  about 
the  sunken  eyes,  and  a  stooping  of  the  form  as  she  went 
about  the  house  and  yard,  told  plainer  than  tears  could  do, 
how  heavy  was  the  grief  at  her  heart. 

She  had  herself  wondered  that  she  could  not  cry,  but  she 
could  not;  and  when  she  would  have  done  so,  her  eyes  grew 
hot,  but  no  tears  ever  came  to  quench  the  flames  that  seemed 
to  consume  them. 

But  when  Erastus  came,  and  putting  his  arms  about  her, 
kissed  her  cheek  and  brow,  and  smoothed  her  hair,  in  which 
the  gray  had  grown  suddenly  prominent,  she  put  her  head 
upon  his  shoulder  and  wept  as  if  she  never  would  cease. 

And  so,  with  his  arm  about  her,  and  his  own  tears  falling 
fast,  he  led  her  gently  into  the  cottage,  and  when  she  grew 
calm,  told  her  of  the  birth  of  her  grandchild. 

Then  they  talked  of  what  it  was  best  to  do,  and  as  Eras- 
tus was  determined  not  to  yield  up  his  place  at  the  Slough 
without  first  exhausting  every  effort  in  defense  of  his  rights, 
it  was  decided  to  leave  everything  which  Mrs.  Parsons  did 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  301 

not  wish  to  take  with  her,  in  the  care  of  a  neighbor,  to  be 
sold,  while  she  returned  with  Erastus  to  the  Slough,  and  to 
Lucy  and  the  baby. 

Accordingly,  the  wearing  apparel  and  a  few  household 
goods,  including  the  little  wheeled  cot  in  which  Johnny  had 
lain  so  long,  and  which  Mrs.  Parsons  could  not  bear  to  have 
go  into  other  hands,  was  packed  and  loaded,  and  the  next 
afternoon  a  neighbor  drove  them  to  the  Landing,  and  the  cot- 
tage upon  the  mountain  side  was  left  desolate. 


302  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEAJ 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

CONSPIRATORS. 

A  close  carriage  drawn  by  a  splendidly  matched  pair  of 
bay  horses  rolled  up  California  street,  in  the  city  of  San 
Francisco,  and  on  Nob  Hill  stopped  in  front  of  a  palatial  resi- 
dence, the  home  of  a  man  who,  not  very  many  years  since, 
was  the  possessor  of  but  little  if  any  money  or  property, 
but  who  is  now  a  railroad  king  and  the  possessor  of  millions. 

As  the  horses  were  brought  to  a  stop,  a  liveried  servant 
climbed  down  from  his  perch,  opened  the  door  of  the  car- 
riage, and  a  heavy,  dark-complexioned  man  in  the  prime  of 
life  descended  and  approached  the  mansion. 

As  he  reached  the  broad  marble  steps,  the  door  opened, 
and  four  boy  pages  in  dark  livery  ranged  themselves  on  either 
side  of  the  steps,  returning  to  the  hall  to  await  orders  only 
after  the  heavy  man,  their  master,  had  passed  on  in 
advance. 

Once  inside,  the  heavy  man  turned  to  the  right  and  entered 
a  large  room,  the  furniture  of  which  was  of  rosewood  and 
mahogany,  and  of  European  manufacture.  The  most  costly 
of  Axminster  carpets  was  upon  the  floor,  and  the  heaviest  of 
damask  and  finest  of  lace  draped  the  windows.  Costly  pic- 
tures were  upon  the  walls,  marble  statuettes  adorned  the  man- 
tels and  the  corner^  of  the  room,  while  solid  silver  chande- 
liers of  many  hundred  pounds  weight  depended  from  the 
ceiling. 

From  this  room  the  heavy  man  passed  through  an  arch- 
way with  massive  sliding  doors  to  another  room  of  similar 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  303 

size  and  ornamentation,  and  from  this  to  a  smaller  one  fur- 
nished as  a  library. 

Magnificently  carved  cases  of  rosewood  held  artistically 
bound  and  beautifully  illustrated  works  of  the  best  authors 
in  fiction,  in  history  and  travel,  but  none  of  these  were 
of  much  interest  to  their  possessor,  who,  without  pausing, 
passed  onward,  and  at  the  left  entered  another  room  supplied 
with  a  small  table,  a  desk,  a  sofa,  and  a  few  chairs — the  pri- 
vate room  of  the  railroad  king  and  holder  of  the  title  deed 
to  the  mansion. 

Seating  himself  at  the  desk,  he  drew  a  key  from  his 
pocket  and,  unlocking  one  of  the  drawers,  took  therefrom  a 
bundle  of  papers,  which  he  ran  over  carefully,  noting  down 
an  item  or  two  from  each.  After  an  hour  spent  in  this  manner, 
he  desisted  from  his  work,  replaced  the  papers,  locked  the 
drawer,  and,  turning  half  round  in  his  chair,  touched  a  but- 
ton in  the  wall.  Almost  immediately  a  servant  in  livery 
appeared  and  stood  waiting  for  orders. 

"Bring  me  a  lunch, —  some  fruit  or  something,  and  a 
bottle  of  wine." 

Again  the  servant  bowed  and  retired.  A  few  moments 
later  he  re-entered  with  a  tray,  on  which  was  a  bit  of  cold 
chicken,  some  grapes,  apricots,  peaches,  a  bottle  of  wine  and 
some  glasses.  These  he  deposited  on  the  table,  which  he 
wheeled  around  in  front  of  his  master's  chair,  and  was  about 
to  retire,  when  the  railroad  king  again  spoke  : 

"  Tell  Barnes  to  come  here." 

The  servant  bowed  and  disappeared.  The  heavy  man 
poured  himself  a  glass  of  wine,  set  it  beside  the  tray,  and 
then  devoted  himself  to  his  lunch. 

He  was  still  eating  when  the  door  opened,  and  a  man  in 
middle  life,  well  dressed,  and  with  a  look  which  indicated 
both  persistence  and  cunning,  entered. 


304  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

"Peters  said  you  wished  to  see  me,"  he  said,  bowing 
slightly. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  heavy  man,  "  I  want  you  to  see  the 
merchants  and  business  men  of  the  city  and  give  them  to 
understand  that  we  don't  want  any  of  their  interference  with 
our  business,  and  that  we  shall  find  a  way  to  make  it  unpleas- 
ant for  them  if  they  do." 

Barnes,  who  was  a  kind  of  private  detective  to  the  railroad 
king,  and  accustomed  to  all  kinds  of  work  requiring  cheek 
and  impudence,  did  hot  change  his  expression  or  move  a 
muscle  while  receiving  this  orde*r,  but  remained  entirely  pas- 
sive while  the  other  was  speaking  and  for  a  few  seconds  after 
he  had  ceased.  Then,  with  a  movement  as  if  turning  to  go, 
he  said,  in  a  tone  which  was  intended  to  indicate  only  a 
desire  to  fully  understand  his  orders  : 

"  Anything  you  want  especially  emphasized  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  other,  taking  up  his  wine  glass  and 
setting  it  down  again  with  force;  "  yes,"  he  repeated,  "  there 
is.  I  want  you  to  make  them  understand  that  we  can  take 
care  of  our  own  affairs,  without  any  assistance  or  advice 
from  them,  and  that  if  they  have  any  sympathy  with  the  out- 
laws who  are  claiming  homestead  rights  on  the  land  which 
Congress  gave  to  us,  they  had  better  keep  it  to  themselves, 
unless  they  know  of  some  better  way  of  shipping  goods  than 
over  our  lines  of  road." 

"  All  right.  I  only  wanted  to  know  just  what  you 
wanted  done,  and  how  far  I  was  to  go  in  the  matter." 

"  You  can  go  far  enough  to  make  them  understand  that 
we  are  not  in  the  habit  of  arresting  grangers  for  the  pleas- 
ure of  seeing  them  bailed  out  of  jail  by  the  business  men 
of  San  Francisco,  and  we  don't  propose  to  form  any  such 
habits  at  this  time.  Hello  !  is  that  you  ?  Well,  come  in," 
he  said,  suddenly  changing  his  tone,  and  addressing  a  man 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  305 

about  his  own  age  but  much  less  given  to  flesh  than  himself, 
who  appeared  at  the  door  and  stood  as  if  waiting  for  an 
invitation  to  enter.  Then  again  addressing  himself  to 
Barnes,  he  said  : 

"  You  can  go  now.  You  have  got  your  orders,  and 
understand  what  you  are  to  do." 

As  Barnes  passed  out  the  other  entered,  shook  hands 
cordially  with  the  heavy  man,  and,  seating  himself  in  a  chair 
which  the  latter  set  for  him,  reached  over  and  helped  himself 
to  a  glass  of  wine,  saying,  as  he  did  so  : 

"  Just  got  back  on  last  train.  Called  at  the  office  ten 
minutes  after  you  left;  found  our  noble  partner  there,  and 
as  he  wanted  to  talk  over  matters,  we  thought  we'd  come 
over  to  your  house.  They  told  me  you  were  in  your  pri- 
vate room,  and  I  took  the  liberty  of  corning  unannounced." 

"  That's  right,"  replied  the  heavy  man,  "  glad  you 
came.  Was  anxious  to  see  you.  Where's  he  now  ?  " 

"  He'll  be  along  in  a  few  moments.  Some  old  fellow 
from  down  below,  some  homesteader  I  guess,  was  trying  to 
talk  him  into  giving  up  our  claim  to  his  land,  and  as  I 
didn't  care  to  listen  to  the  old  fellow's  lingo  about  how  hard 
he  had  worked  to  improve  his  claim,  and  how  tough  it  was 
to  be  turned  out  of  house  and  home  without  anything  to 
start  on  again,  I  came  on  ahead  and  left  him  to  follow  as 
soon  as  he  could  get  rid  of  his  visitor." 

'  That's  it,"  replied  the  heavy  man.  "  They  are  ever- 
lastingly whining  about  being  turned  out  of  their  homes. 
Why  don't  they  go  somewhere  else  and  begin  again  ?  They 
ought  to  know  by  this  time  that  they  can't  fight  a  rich  cor- 
poration, such  as  we  are." 

The  thinner  man  laughed.  It  was  not  what  one  might  call 
a  hearty  laugh.  Neither  was  it  exactly  forced.  The  person 
of  the  party  emitting  it  shook  just  a  little,  as  much  at  least 

20 


306  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

as  a  person  with  that  amount  of  flesh  could  be  expected  to 
do.  Evidently  the  thinner  man  saw  something  mirth-pro- 
voking in  the  suggestions  of  the  other,  that  these  men  whose 
lands  they  were  seeking  to  possess  themselves  of,  should  go 
elsewhere  in  the  State  and  preempt  again  ;  and  he  looked 
at  his  companion  with  a  kind  of  quizzical  expression,  as  if 
he  would  have  said  : 

"  Suppose  you  suggest  some  place  in  the  State  where 
these  men  can  find  land  open  for  preemption  that  we  do 
not  claim,  and  perhaps  they  will  go  there." 

The  other  evidently  understood  the  look,  for  he  winced 
a  little  beneath  it,  and  then  said,  in  a  petulant  kind  of 
way  : 

"  Well,  let  'em  stay  where  they  are,  then,  and  work  for  a 
share  of  the  crop.  All  the  more  reason  why  they  should,  if 
they  can't  find  any  land  to  preempt  anywhere  else  in  the 
State.  Anyhow,"  he  continued,  in  a  more  determined  tone, 
"if  they  are  going  to  whine,  I  propose  to  give  them  some- 
thing worth  whining  about.  I  was  just  ordering  Barnes,  as 
you  came  in,  to  notify  the  business  men  that  they  had  bet- 
ter keep  their  fingers  out  of  our  pie  if  they  don't  want  to  get 
them  burnt." 

"Anything  new?"  asked  the  thinner  man,  with  a  sud- 
den show  of  interest. 

"  Nothing  special  ;  only,  if  we  conclude  to  have  any  of 
those  pretended  settlers  arrested  again,  and  let  'em  lie  in 
jail  awhile,  until  they  come  to  their  senses,  we  don't  want 
anybody  coming  forward  with  offers  to  go  their  bail." 

The  thinner  man  laughed  again,  the  same  quiet  kind  of 
laugh  as  before. 

"  Well,  governor,"  he  said,  "  I  guess  you  can  manage 
that  without  any  assistance,  and  I  am  willing  to  leave  it  to 
you  as  long  as  you  do  it  properly.  It  has  to  be  done,  of 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  307 

course,  for  the  land  we  must  have,  but  I  own  that  I  prefer 
buying  congressmen  and  senators  to  driving  those  poor 
devils  out  of  their  homes  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  that's  all  very  nice,"  replied  the  other,  "  but 
what  is  the  use  of  buying  congressmen  and  senators,  if  we 
are  not  to  reap  the  benefit  of  the  purchase  ?  It  isn't  the 
senators  and  congressmen  that  we  bought,  either.  They  did 
the  selling.  The  thing  bought  was  the  land,  and  it  isn't  our 
fault  if  the  men  that  are  on  the  land  have  got  themselves 
into  such  shape  that  they  go  with  it ;  and,  besides,  if  we  are 
going  to  be  squeamish  about  taking  what  we  have  bought, 
we  might  better  have  kept  our  purchase  money." 

The  thinner  man  smiled.  Then  he  leaned  back  in  his 
chair,  stretched  out  his  legs,  ran  both  hands  deep  into  his 
pants  pockets,  and  gazed  up  at  the  ceiling. 

"  All  right,  governor,"  he  said.  "  I'm  not  going  to  mor- 
alize about  the  right  of  congressmen  or  courts  to  sell  the 
land  or  the  men  that  work  it.  We  went  into  this  thing  to 
win,  and  of  course  we  are  going  to  see  it  through.  If  the 
people  have  no  more  sense  or  spirit  than  to  sit  still  and  let 
us  gobble  up  the  country,  they  are  only  fit  for  slaves,  and 
slaves  they  shall  be.  If  we  can  keep  them  quiet  a  few  years 
more,  until  we  get  our  plans  all  laid  and  in  operation,  get 
possession  of  the  water  transportation  as  thoroughly  as  we 
have  of  the  railroad  facilities,  their  whining  won't  count  for 
much  ;  and  you  can  depend  on  me  standing  by  you  until 
the  thing  is  done.  I  was  only  saying  that  I  like  better  the 
work  of  paying  congress  and  the  courts  to  let  us  take  what 
we  want,  than  I  do  the  work  of  turning  those  poor  devils 
out  of  their  homes,  after  congress  and  the  courts  have  given 
us  permission  to  do  so.  Now  a  congressman  or  a  judge  is 
well  fed  and  generally  well  satisfied  with  himself  and  the 
world  at  large,  and  so  is  not  given  to  unpleasant  reminis- 


308  DRIVEN    FROM   SEA    TO    SEA; 

cences  or  predilections,  while  at  the  same  time  they  are  gen- 
erally sufficiently  ready  to  turn  an  honest  penny  to  make 
them  anxious  to  make  themselves  agreeable  to  anyone  who 
is  known  to  have  a  little  matter  that  he  is  willing  to  pay  for 
having  attended  to  —  at  least  that  has  been  my  experience. 
All  of  which  helps  to  make  the  work  of  getting  their  consent 
to  our  little  schemes  very  pleasant;  at  least  a  good  deal  more 
pleasant  than  listening  to  the  complaints  of  the  poor 
wretches  of  grangers  whose  homes  have  been  disposed  of 
without  their  consent,  and  who,  when  we  have  driven  them 
off,  bag  and  baggage,  with  their  wives  and  young  ones,  will 
begin  again  somewhere  else,  with  the  certainty  that  the  same 
thing  will  be  done  to  them  again  as  soon  as  they  get  enough 
together  to  make  it  an  object  for  anybody  to  do  it." 

"  That's  it,"  replied  the  heavy  man.  "  If  we  don't  do  it, 
somebody  else  will  ;  and,  besides,  we  have  paid  for  the  priv- 
ilege, and  so  have  the  best  right  to  make  the  first  assess- 
ment. And  while  we  are  about  it  we  may  as  well  make  it 
large  enough  so  no  one  else  will  be  tempted  to  trouble  them 
for  a  while  at  least.  But  here  he  comes.  Come  in,"  he 
called,  in  response  to  a  rap  on  the  door,  and  a  gentleman 
entered,  nodded  familiarly  to  the  heavy  man  and  his  com- 
panion, and,  drawing  a  chair  up  to  the  table,  sat  down. 

Nodding  sideways  towards  the  thinner  man,  he  said  : 
"  He  came  in  just  after  you  left,  governor,  and  as  we  knew 
you  would  want  to  hear  how  things  were  looking  at  the  Capi- 
tal, we  concluded  to  come  up  and  let  him  make  his  report 
to  us  here.' 

"  That's  right.  Glad  you  came,"  replied  the  heavy  man. 
I  am  anxious  to  hear  just  what  shape  affairs  are  in  at  Wash- 
ington, and  what  the  outlook  is.  It  is  of  the  utmost  import- 
ance that  our  friends  there  stand  by  us  now.  Do  you 
think,"  he  added,  addressing  the  thinner  man,  "that  we  can 


OR,    JUST    A    CAMPIN'.  309 

depend  on  enough  votes  in  the  House  and  Senate  to  pull 
us  through  ? " 

"  I  don't  see  why  we  should  fail,"  replied  the  thinner 
man.  "  The  president  of  the  Senate  has  kindly  permitted 
the  use  of  the  room  directly  back  of  his  desk  for  our  private 
lobby,  so  that  we  can  watch  matters  and  have  a  consultation 
with  our  friends  at  any  moment.  I  think  everything  is  all 
right  there  now,  but  if  need  be  we  can  fix  a  man  or  two  at 
the  last  moment. 

"  In  the  House  matters  have  not  progressed  quite  so  far, 
but  there  is  time  enough  yet.  Congressmen  are  not  becom- 
ing any  more  virtuous  or  hard  to  approach  as  the  years  pass, 
that  I  can  see;  but  the  contrary.  There's  a  difference,  to  be 
sure,  but  it's  a  difference  of  price.  When  we  first  began  we 
had  to  satisfy  only  a  few  of  the  party  leaders,  and  the  rest 
followed  ;  but  of  late  they  have  all  dropped  to  our  racket, 
and  either  kick  out  and  refuse  to  vote  with  us  on  any  terms, 
or  they  demand  to  be  paid  for  their  votes  the  same  as  the 
leaders,  which  makes  it  rather  expensive  getting  what  we 
want.  Still  it's  a  good  investment." 

"  How  much  will  it  take,  according  to  your  estimates  ? " 
asked  the  heavy  man. 

"  How  much  ?  Oh,  well,  that's  hard  to  say  exactly. 
You  can  judge  about  as  well  as  I.  Congressmen  this  year 
range  all  the  way  from  five  thousand  dollars  up  to  fifty 
thousand,  and  senators  proportionately  higher,  and  we  must 
have  a  majority  of  both  houses. 

"  Of  course  we  can  count  on  getting  some  votes  on  the 
plea  of  the  public  good,  and  the  necessity  for  more  railroads 
to  open  up  the  country  and  to  provide  competition.  Then 
there  is  a  certain  number  of  members  who  are  afraid  to  vote 
with  us,  but  who  can  be  persuaded  that  they  need  a  vaca- 
tion about  the  time  the  bill  comes  to  a  vote,  and  can  be  got 


310  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

rid  of  for  the  day  for  the  cost  of  a  trip  home  or  to  New 
York,  with  provision  for  a  good  time  after  they  get  there. 
Then  a  certain  other  number  can  be  sent  off  on  committees 
of  investigation,  and  the  number  who  must  be  paid  directly 
be  greatly  reduced  in  that  way.  I  should  say  it  would  cost 
about  half  a  million  to  get  what  we  want." 

"  Half  a  million,"  echoed  the  heavy  man  with  a  sigh. 
"  Congressmen  at  five  to  fifty  thousand  dollars — what  is  the 
country  coming  to  ?  " 

As  neither  of  his  companions  ventured  a  prediction,  the 
heavy  man  continued  :  "  When  we  commenced  business 
here  on  the  coast  we  could  get  all  the  help  we  wanted  from 
members  of  Congress  by  placing  a  few  thousand  dollars  of 
our  stock  in  the  hands  of  the  right  men.  And  down  South, 
before  the  war,  they  say  able-bodied  niggers  used  to  sell  for 
a  thousand  dollars  apiece,  the  best  of  'em."  And  the 
heavy  man  lay  back  in  his  chair  and  looked  grum  and  dis- 
gusted. 

"  You  don't  look  at  the  thing  in  the  right  light,"  returned 
the  thinner  man,  laughing.  A  thousand  dollars  apiece  for 
niggers  is  high,  is  way  up,  compared  to  what  we  pay  for 
white  men.  At  a  half  million  dollars  for  the  lot,  there  are 
already  enough  squatters  on  the  land  we  are  after  to  bring 
the  price  to  five  hundred  dollars  for  a  whole  family,  with 
several  million  acres  of  land  thrown  in,  enough  for  several 
pretty  good  sized  plantations,  I  should  say." 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  always  put  things  in  that  disagree- 
able kind  of  a  way,"  remarked  the  third  man.  "  It  is  but  a 
few  years  since  we  fought  to  set  the  negroes  free  in  this 
country,  and  I  don't  like  to  hear  about  making  slaves  of 
white  men.  It  don't  sound  well." 

"  Oh,  well,  just  as  you  like.  It's  only  a  choice  of  terms," 
replied  the  thinner  man,  good-naturedly.  "  By  the  way, 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  311 

you  say  'we  fought; '  I  don't  remember  ever  to  have  heard 
the  number  of  your  regiment  and  company  ?  What  State 
did  you  enlist  from  ? " 

"  Come,  come,"  interrupted  the  heavy  man.  "  What's 
the  use  of  your  sparring  each  other  ?  If  none  of  us  went  to 
war  ourselves,  we  did  all  we  could  to  induce  others  to  go, 
and  so  helped  sustain  the  government.  As  governor  of 
the  State  during  that  time,  I  did  everything  I  could  in  sup- 
port of  the  administration.  It  was  conceded  at 'the  time 
that  to  my  efforts  was  due  the  fact  that  the  Pacific  coast 
remained  true  to  the  Union.  We  both  understand  your  way 
of  putting  things,  of  course,  and  it's  all  right  with  us ;  but 
it  wouldn't  do  to  let  outsiders  hear  you  talk  that  way.  They 
might  think  you  were  in  earnest." 

"  Never  you  fear  for  that,  governor.  I  am  not  going  to 
give  the  thing  away.  Why,  you  ought  to  hear  me  expound 
the  matter  to  members  of  congress.  I  actually  get  eloquent 
sometimes,  I  do  believe,  dwelling  on  the  advantages  which 
our  enterprise  will  be  to  the  country  ;  opening  up  its 
resources  and  laying  bare  its  great  natural  wealth  to  the 
energy  and  enterprise  of  the  people.  WThy,  I'll  contract  to 
keep  any  congressman  or  senator  who  votes  the  way  we 
want  him  to,  in  arguments  to  prove  himself  a  patriot  and 
statesman.  I  do  that  regularly  with  lots  of  our  fellows, 
besides  writing  whole  columns  of  matter  for  the  newspapers, 
setting  forth  the  desirability  of  the  thing  from  a  commercial 
standpoint  Maybe  you  didn't  know  that  that  great  speech 
of  Thompson's  in  the  House  last  week  was  written  by  me. 
Well,  it  was.  That  is,  I  furnished  the  figures  and  outlined 
the  argument.  Thompson  put  the  thing  into  shape  a  little; 
rounded  off  the  periods  so  they  would  sound  well,  and 
then  shot  it  off  to  the  country.  It  made  a  big  noise,  too,  I 


312  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

tell  you.  The  associated  press  reported  it,  and  all  the  big 
dailies  had  it  next  morning  with  double  headlines." 

"  I  hope  Thompson  succeeded  in  convincing  the  rest  of 
the  members  of  the  House  that  our  enterprise  has  been  a 
great  benefit,"  remarked  the  last  comer. 

"  I  should  say  so.  Why,  benefit  is  no  word  for  it.  Con- 
sidering the  fact  that  we  invested  exactly  eleven  thousand 
five  hundred  dollars  in  this  thing  to  start  on,  and  now  own 
half  the  coast,  with  a  prospect  of  gobbling  up  the  other  half, 
I  should  say  it  had  been  a  benefit,  with  a  big  B." 

"  Oh,  come,  now,  I'm  tired  of  your  nonsense  ;  let's  talk 
business.  Give  me  the  names  of  the  men  whom  you  have 
seen  and  the  price  they  can  be  had  at,  and  anything  else 
of  importance,  so  we  can  decide  what  to  do  at  once.  I 
suppose,  though,  we  will  have  to  pay  them  their  price,  what- 
ever it  is,  but  we  must  get  it  down  as  low  as  possible,  for 
we  may  have  to  fight  the  thing  in  the  courts,  if  not  in  the 
departments,  after  we  get  the  bill  through.  And  election  is 
coming  on,  and  we  have  to  take  care  of  our  friends,  or  some 
of  'em  may  get  left,  and  it's  cheaper  and  safer  to  help  those 
to  a  reelection  whom  we  know  to  be  friendly,  than  it  is  to 
trust  to  new  men  who  may  not  be  of  our  way  of  think- 
ing." 

"That's  true,"  returned  the  other.  "  It  is  always  harder 
to  approach  a  man  the  first  time  than  the  second  or  third. 
Your  new  man  may  be  either  afraid  to  deal,  or  what  is  quite 
as  likely,  afraid  of  selling  too  cheap,  not  being  posted  on 
the  price  of  votes.  Or  he  may  possibly  have  too  exalted  an 
opinion  of  the  position  of  Congressman  and  law-maker  to 
make  it  safe  to  approach  him  with  a  business  proposition. 
Such  men  are  not  common  in  Congress  now-a-days,.  but 
occasionally  one  gets  there  by  accident,  and  we  have  to  be 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  313 

cautious  and  feel  our  way.  And  it  all  costs.  Wine  is 
higher  in  Washington  than  it  is  in  California ;  and  a  cham- 
pagne supper,  about  as  good  a  thing  to  bring  men  together 
and  get  acquainted  and  friendly  as  any,  will  spoil  a  thousand 
dollar  note. 

"  How  about  the  third  House  ? "  asked  the  last  man  in. 

"  The  Lobby  ?  Oh,  well,  we  have  to  use  the  lobby, 
of  course.  It  is  generally  safer  to  deal  through  a  third 
party.  Gives  one  a  chance  to  swear  he  did  not  authorize 
anything  of  the  kind,  you  know.  The  trouble  of  it  is  one 
can't  always  tell  how  much  the  go-between  is  beating  him. 
I  expect  them  to  keep  a  good  big  per  cent,  of  what  passes 
through  their  fingers,  of  course.  One  can't  expect  them  to 
act  from  disinterested  motives  entirely,  but  it  isn't  exactly 
pleasant  to  learn,  after  the  deal  is  closed,  that  some  fellow 
to  whom  you  paid  ten  or  twenty  thousand  dollars  to  do  cer- 
tain things  with,  has  kept  the  whole  of  it  and  trusted  to  luck 
to  prevent  your  finding  it  out.  However,  I  flatter  myself 
that  such  things  don't  occur  very  often.  Anyway,  one  must 
take  the  bitter  with  the  sweet  in  life." 

"I  suppose  that's  so,"  replied  the  heavy  man,  "but  I 
hope  you  don't  allow  them  to  beat  you  out  of  such  sums 
often.  But  come,  get  out  your  memorandum,  and  let's  get 
down  to  business  at  once.  I  want  to  know  what  the  whole 
thing  is  going  to  cost  us." 

The  three  men  drew  close  about  the  table,  the  tray  with 
the  bottle  and  glasses  being  shoved  to  one  side.  The  thin- 
ner man  produced  a  small  morocco-covered  memorandum 
book  with  a  gold  clasp,  in  which  were  written  the  initials  of 
certain  lobbyists,  members  of  Congress  and  the  Senate  of  the 
United  States.  Opposite  to  these  initials  were  the  amounts 
in  pencil  which  he  had  either  formally  contracted  to  pay  for 


314  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

the  service  which  he  desired  at  their  hands,  or  which  he 
believed  would  be  required  to  induce  them  to  comply  with 
the  wishes  of  the  corporation  which  he  represented. 

The  three  conspirators  spent  a  half  hour  in  examining 
these.  Then  followed  a  discussion  of  who  among  the  candi- 
dates for  congress  should  be  aided  and  who  defeated,  not 
only  upon  the  coast,  but  in  other  States  and  portions  of  the 
Union,  after  which  the  two  men  last  introduced  arose  to  go. 
As  they  did  so,  the  heavy  man  poured  out  three  glasses  of 
wine.  Passing  one  to  each  of  his  companions,  he  raised  the 
other  to  his  lips. 

"  Let  us  drink  to  the  success  of  our  enterprise,"  he  said. 

"And  to  the  confusion  of  the  people,"  added  the  thin- 
ner man. 

The  third  man  scowled  slightly,  and  glanced  about  him 
with  the  least  sign  of  nervousness,  as  if  he  feared  that  the 
reckless  language  of  the  other  might  reach  ears  for  which 
it  was  not  intended  ;  but  he  drank  his  wine  and  said 
nothing. 

The  heavy  man  emptied  his  glass  at  a  gulp,  refilled  and 
again  emptied  it.  "  To  the  confusion  of  the  people,"  he  said, 
repeating  the  words  of  the  other. 

Then  following  his  guests  to  the  door,  he  bowed  them 
out  into  the  hall,  and  calling  a  page,  bade  him  attend  them 
to  a  carriage  in  waiting,  and  returned  to  his  private  room. 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN*.  315 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

CONSUMMATE    VILLAINY. 

/ 

When  Erastus  and  Mrs.  Parsons  reached  the  Slough,  they 
found  Lucy  very  sick;  the  shock  received  at  learning  of  the 
death  of  her  father  and  Johnny,  while  in  her  feeble  condi- 
tion, having  still  further  prostrated  her  and  brought  on  a 
low  fever,  from  which  her  recovery  was  slow. 

From  the  hour  of  her  arrival,  Lucy's  mother  became  her 
nurse,  waiting  upon  and  watching  her  with  all  a  mother's 
solicitude,  and  the  new  demands  thus  made  upon  her  affec- 
tions and  sympathies,  forced  her  in  a  measure  to  withdraw 
her  thoughts  from  the  dead  and  fix  them  again  upon  the 
things  of  this  life,  and  so  very  probably  prevented  her  from 
sinking  into  a  condition  where  morbid  watchfulness  for 
death,  as  the  only  release  from  the  memories  of  the  past, 
would  have  slowly  consumed  her  life. 

Then,  too,  there  was  the  baby.  A  wonderful  baby  it  was. 
All  babies  are;  at  least  in  the  opinion  of  their  mothers  and 
grandmothers. 

If  there  was  ever,  anywhere,  an  exception  to  this  rule, 
the  writer  never  heard  of  it,  and  certainly  this  was  not  one. 

The  youngster  was  as  fat  as  three- weeks-old  babies  ever 
are,  and  of  the  same  beautiful  color. 

He  had  a  fine  head  of  hair — in  prospect — and  had  already 
made  two  weak  little  attempts  to  put  his  toe  into  his  mouth, 
which  everybody  said  was  very  remarkable  and  showed  won- 
derful genius  in  one  so  young,  and  Lucy  "just  knew  he  was 
the  sweetest  baby  that  ever  lived;  so  he  was." 


316  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO   SEA; 

She  first  thought  of  calling  him  Erastus,  after  his  father,  but 
finally  decided  to  name  him  John,  after  her  own  father  and 
little  crippled  brother,  now  dead  and  at  rest  upon  the  moun- 
tain side. 

After  the  arrival  of  the  few  household  goods  belonging 
to  Mrs.  Parsons,  the  baby  was  placed  in  the  little  wheeled 
cot  that  he  might  be  the  more  easily  cared  for  during  his 
mother's  illness,  and  seeing  him  there,  by  degrees  there  came 
to  the  breast  of  Mar. ha  Parsons  a  feeling  half  as  if  this  was 
her  own  Johnny  made  well  again  by  the  angels,  just  as  he 
was  when  he  first  came  to  her. 

But  this  could  not  remove  wholly  the  awful  sense  of  lone- 
liness and  loss,  and  the  gray  in  her  hair  became  more  and 
more  prominent,  and  the  stooping  of  her  form  more  and 
more  noticeable  as  the  days  went  by. 

When  Lucy's  health  was  finally  restored  she  again  took 
up  her  round  of  household  duties  known  to  every  farmer's 
wife,  only  permitting  her  mother  to  do  such  portion  as  seemed 
a  pleasure  to  her,  and  both  she  and  Erastus  sought  in 
every  way  possible  to  fill  her  declining  years  with  comfort. 

Meanwhile  the  contest  between  the  Southern  Pacific  Rail- 
road Company  and  the  settlers  continued. 

Although  having  notified  the  settlers  to  vacate  their 
homes  unless  they  were  prepared  to  pay  their  full  value, 
including  all  improvements,  the  railroad  company  made  no 
immediate  attempt  to  force  compliance  with  their  demands. 

To  do  so  would  bring  the  whole  matter  prominently  before 
the  country  and  raise  such  a  storm  of  indignant  protest  from 
the  whole  people  as  not  only  to  force  the  company  to  relin- 
quish their  claim  to  the  homes  of  the  settlers,  but  to  the  entire 
grant  of  many  millions  of  acres. 

The  conspirators  well  knew  that  they  had  complied  with 
no  portion  of  the  terms  required  in  the  grant,  and  that  until 


OR.  JUST    A   CAMPIN  .  317 

they  did  so  they  could  have  no  legal  or  equitable  right 
thereto. 

They  had  decided,  however,  to  obtain  the  land  without 
complying  with  the  terms  of  the  grant,  and  their  policy  was 
to  harass  the  settlers  by  threats,  and  in  every  way  possible  to 
incite  them  to  such  acts  of  violence  as  would  bring  them  in 
conflict  with  the  state  or  local  authorities,  while  the  officers 
of  the  company  stood  ready  to  appease  any  public  sentiment 
that  might  be  stirred  up  against  themselves  by  asserting  their 
readiness  to  submit  to  arbitration  or  the  decision  of  the 
courts,  and  it  was  in  pursuance  of  this  policy  that  they  made 
no  immediate  attempts  to  enforce  their  orders  to  pay  or 
vacate. 

When  it  became  evident  that  they  were  to  be  forced  into 
a  long  and  expensive  contest  in  defense  of  their  homes,  the 
settlers  had  formed  themselves  into  a  league,  for  the  purpose 
of  employing  counsel  and  taking  whatever  other  steps  were 
possible  for  the  protection  of  their  rights. 

An  appeal  was  made  to  O.  H.  Browning,  then  Secretary 
of  the  Interior,  at  Washington,  for  his  decision  regarding  the 
claims  of  the  company  and  of  the  settlers. 

Mr.  Browning  examined  the  matter  carefully,  listened 
patiently  to  the  arguments  of  the  attorneys  of  the  railroad 
company  and  decided  that  the  company  had  not  built  their 
road  upon  the  line  specified  in  their  charter,  but  had  instead 
built  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  distant  from  that  -line, 
where  they  had  no  authority  for  building,  and  consequently 
could  have  no  possible  claim  to  any  portion  of  the 
grant. 

At  the  same  time  that  he  rendered  this  decision  Secretary 
Browning  ordered  the  land  commissioners  to  consider  the 
lands  in  California  claimed  by  the  railroad  company  open  for 
settlement,  and  to  allow  those  claiming  them  under  the  home- 


3l8  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

stead  and  pre-emption  laws  to  prove  up  and  obtain  their 
patents  from  the  government. 

This  decision  was  received  by  the  settlers  at  the  Slough 
with  glad  and  grateful  hearts. 

It  secured  them  in  their  natural  and  acquired  rights,  and 
was  accepted  as  proof  that  the  authorities  at  Washington 
were  beyond  the  power  of  the  corruptionists,  and  that  the 
general  government  would  continue  to  respect  the  rights  of 
the  humblest  of  her  citizens  equally  with  those  of  the  wealthy 
and  powerful. 

With  their  love  for  and  pride  in  their  country  and  its 
institutions  strengthened  by  the  justice  of  this  decision  of 
one  of  its  officials,  those  who  were  in  a  condition  to  do  so  at 
once  prepared  their  papers  for  proving  up,  but  before  they 
could  secure  their  patent  from  the  government  word  came 
that  Mr.  Browning  had  withdrawn  the  lands  from  market 
and  that  they  would  not  be  permitted  to  receive  their  patent 
until  further  notice. 

The  cause  of  this  action  on  the  part  of  the  Secretary  of 
the  Interior  was  the  receipt  of  a  request  from  a  prominent 
politician,  who  was  a  major-general  in  the  Union  army, 
whom  the  railroad  company  had  induced  to  intercede  for 
them,  asking  that  further  opportunity  of  presenting  evidence 
to  show  that  they  were  entitled  to  the  land  in  question  be 
given  them. 

This  was  but  a  trick  of  the  conspirators  to  obtain  time, 
prevent  the  settlers  from  at  once  receiving  their  deeds  from 
the  government,  and  give  themselves  opportunity  to  learn 
where  an  influence  could  be  found  or  purchased  sufficiently 
powerful  to  secure  a  permanent  reversal  of  the  decision  of 
the  Secretary. 

The  Presidential   campaign  was   coming   on   and  they 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  319 

hoped  for  a  change  of  some  kind  that  would  enable  them  to 
accomplish  their  dishonest  purposes. 

The  settlers,  although  anxious  and  uneasy  in  their  minds, 
believed  that  the  government  would  ultimately  deal  justly 
with  them,  tended  their  orchards  and  vineyards  as  usual,  and 
added  new  fields  to  the  territory  already  irrigated. 

The  election  came  and  passed. 

Grant  was  elected  President  and  J.  D.  Cox,  of  Ohio,  was 
made  Secretary  of  the  Interior  in  place  of  Mr.  Browning. 

To  Mr.  Cox  the  officers  of  the  railroad  company  applied 
for  a  favorable  decision  upon  their  right  to  the  lands  in 
question,  bringing  every  influence  possible  to  induce  him  to 
do  so,  but  without  success. 

Mr.  Cox  decided  as  Mr.  Browning  had  done,  that  the 
company  had  no  right  whatever  to  the  land,  and  ordered  it 
again  opened  to  pre-emption  and  homestead,  and  this  de- 
cision \vas  sustained  by  the  Attorney-General  of  the  United 
States,  Hon.  Charles  Devans. 

It  is  probable  that  Stanford,  Crocker,  and  Huntington, 
the  leading  conspirators  and  owners  of  the  Southern  Pacific 
Railroad,  had  anticipated  the  nature  of  the  decision  and  de- 
cided in  advance  upon  their  course  of  action. 

By  means  which  may  sometime  be  better  known  to  the 
public  than  at  present,  they  procured  the  introduction  into 
the  United  States  Senate  of  a  joint  resolution  authorizing 
the  Southern  Pacific  Railroad  Company  to  build  its  road  "as 
near  as  may  be  "  on  the  line  specified  in  their  charter  from 
the  State  of  California,  and  providing  that  when  the  road 
should  be  built  in  compliance  in  other  respects  with  the  law 
making  the  grant  of  lands,  the  Secretary  of  the  Interior 
should  cause  patents  for  the  same  to  be  issued  to  the  com- 
pany, "expressly  saving  and  reserving  the  rights  of  actual 
settlers." 


320  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

This  resolution  was  referred  to  the  Senate  committee  on 
Pacific  Railroads,  whose  chairman  was  friendly  to  the  road, 
and  who  immediately  wrote  to  Secretary  Cox,  suggesting 
that  he  withdraw  his  order  permitting  the  settlers  to  prove 
up  on  their  claims  until  the  committee  could  report,  and  the 
Senate  and  House  act  upon  the  resolution. 

Mr.  Cox  complied  with  the  request,  again  withdrew  the 
lands  from  market  and  again  the  Mussle  Slough  settlers 
were  refused  permission  to  present  their  proving-up  papers 
and  receive  a  title  to  their  homes. 

No  sooner  was  this  accomplished  than  the  attorneys  for 
the  railroad  company,  in  the  Senate,  in  the  House,  and  in 
the  Lobby,  began  the  work  of  securing  enough  votes  to  pass 
the  resolution. 

The  settlers  protested  and  petitioned  against  its  passage, 
but  little  attention  was  paid  to  their  pleadings  for  justice. 

The  member  of  congress  from  the  district  through  which 
the  road  was  being  constructed  was  either  incompetent  or 
in  the  pay  of  the  road,  and  made  but  feeble  efforts  to  defeat 
the  schemes  of  the  corporation,  and  the  Senators  from  Cali- 
fornia were  equally  derelict  in  their  duty. 

Finally  the  settlers  raised  money  among  themselves  and 
sent  an  attorney  to  Washington  to  plead  their  cause  for 
them. 

He  returned  with  a  Federal  appointment  in  his  pocket 
and  without  having  accomplished  anything  for  those  who  sent 
him,  and  the  resolution  in  favor  of  the  railroad  company 
passed  both  Houses. 

The  people  at  the  Slough  were  now  greatly  discouraged, 
but  still  not  without  hope. 

The  resolution  plainly  provided  that  the  rights  of  actual 
settlers  should  be  respected,  and  they  could  not  see  how  any 
one  could  dispute  the  fact  of  their  being  such.  Indeed  it 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  321 

was  only  by  asserting  that  their  rights  were  secured  by  that 
clause  of  the  resolution  that  enough  members  of  the  House 
and  Senate  who  were  not  absolute  tools  or  partners  of  the 
conspirators,  were  induced  to  vote  for  the  resolution  to 
secure  its  passage. 

Besides  this,  the  railroad  company,  when  its  officers  first 
decided  to"  make  an  effort  to  seize  upon  the  land  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  Slough,  had  issued  circulars  urging  people  to 
come  and  take  up  land  there,  promising  them  that  as  soon 
as  the  company  received  patents  for  the  land  from  the  gov- 
ernment it  would  deed  to  the  settlers,  upon  payment  of  the 
price  of  wild  land  ;  or  at  two  and  a  half  dollars  per  acre  for 
barren  plains,  such  as  most  of  the  land  at  the  Slough  was ; 
and  that  in  no  case  would  a  price  exceeding  ten  dollars  per 
acre  be  charged,  even  for  timbered  land. 

A  large  portion  of  the  settlers  now  at  the  Slough  had 
come  in  compliance  with  this  invitation  and  agreement  on 
the  part  of  the  railroad  company,  and  they  still  relied  upon 
the  promise  of  the  company,  or  thought  the  courts  would 
compel  it  to  comply  with  the  promise  set  forth  in  its  circu- 
lars— a  promise  which  became  a  binding  contract  when  the 
settlers,  acting  upon  it,  came  upon  the  land  and  began  to 
improve  it. 

The  officers  of  the  company  had,  however,  no  intention 
of  complying  with  the  promise,  and  their  success  in  bribing 
congress  led  them  to  feel  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  feared 
from  the  courts. 

They  demanded  the  full  value  of  all  lands,  including 
improvements,  and  claimed  that  the  words  "actual  settlers" 
in  the  resolution  of  congress,  referred  to  such  as  govern- 
ment had  granted  patents  to  before  the  passage  of  the  act 
making  the  grant  of  lands  to  the  company;  which  was  before 
the  first  settler  came  to  the  Slough,  and  was  of  lands  along 

21 


322  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

the  line  proposed  in  their  charter,  distant  one  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  and  on  the  other  side  of  a  range  of  mountains. 

During  all  this  time  the  settlers  had  held  frequent  meet- 
ings and  endeavored  in  every  legal  manner  known  to  them 
to  defend  their  rights. 

Erastus  Hemmingway  was  always  in  attendance  upon 
these  meetings,  and  although  he  said  but  little,  what  he  did 
say  was  always  to  the  point,  clear  and  forcible,  and  he  came 
to  be  regarded  by  all  as  one  whose  judgment  was  of  value, 
and  who  was  ever  prompt  with  his  portion  of  the  money 
found  necessary  to  be  raised  from  time  to  time  in  defense  of 
their  homes. 

At  last,  and  after  repeated  meetings  and  much  discus- 
sion, it  was  decided  to  make  an  offer  to  compromise  with 
the  company  as  the  cheapest  way  out  of  the  difficulty,  and  a 
letter  was  addressed  to  its  chief  officer,  stating  that  while 
they  did  not  recognize  either  the  legal  or  equitable  claim  of 
the  company  to  their  lands,  yet  for  the  sake  of  being  at 
peace  they  would  all  pay  the  prices  which  those  who  came 
by  invitation  of  the  company  had  been  promised  the  land  at; 
or  the  price  which  a  disinterested  committee  would  say  the 
lands  without  the  improvements  were  now  worth;  or  the 
price  at  which  the  company  was  now  offering  to  sell  raw 
land  of  similar  quality. 

This  would  compel  those  who  took  homestead  and  pre- 
emption claims  before  the  company  made  any  pretense  of 
being  entitled  to  the  land — while  it  still  professed  to  be  in- 
tending to  build  its  road  and  take  the  lands  upon  the  line 
laid  down  in  its  charter — to  pay  from  two  and  a  half  to  ten 
dollars  per  acre  for  what  they  should  have  had  for  nothing 
as  homesteaders,  or  on  payment  of  one  dollar  and  a  quarter 
per  acre  to  the  government  in  case  they  claimed  as  pre- 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  323 

emptors.  But  all  were  weary  of  the  long  contest  and  pre- 
ferred peace  at  any  price  short  of  bankruptcy,  rather  than  a 
continuation  of  their  troubles. 

In  reply  to  this  offer  of  the  settlers  the  president  of  the 
company  responded  saying  that  they  were  willing  to  do  what 
should  appear  right,  and  requesting  the  settlers  to  select  a 
committee  from  among  themselves  to  come  to  San  Francisco 
and  confer  with  the  representatives  of  the  company. 

This  letter  was  read  at  a  regular  meeting  of  the  Settlers' 
League,  and  a  committee  immediately  selected  and  author- 
ized to  act  for  the  whole. 

Among  those  chosen  for  this  duty  were  Erastus  Hem- 
mingway  and  his  neighbor  Mr.  Johnson. 

The  committee  proceeded  to  San  Francisco,  put  up  at  a 
hotel  and  notified  the  railroad  officials  of  their  presence  and 
readiness  to  confer. 

Instead  of  proceeding  to  the  conference,  however,  one  of 
the  officials  went  before  the  authorities,  swore  out  warrants 
and  had  them  all  arrested  and  conveyed  to  jail,  where  they 
were  locked  up  and  forced  to  remain  until  morning,  Barnes 
having  performed  the  work  assigned  him  by  the  railroad 
king  as  told  in  the  previous  chapter,  and  -notified  the 
business  men  of  the  city  that  it  was  the  will  of  the  railroad 
company  that  no  one  should  go  bail  for  the  arrested  men, 
and  that  the  company  would  ruin  the  business  of  any  one 
who  dared  to  do  so. 

After  lying  in  jail  all  night  they  were  taken  before  the 
court  and  dismissed  without  a  hearing,  and  in  spite  of  their 
protest  and  demands  to  be  given  an  opportunity  to  explain 
to  the  court  the  circumstances  of  their  arrest,  and  so  were 
forced  to  return  to  their  homes  and  their  waiting  neighbors 
and  report  that  no  mercy  was  to  be  expected  from  those  who 


324  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

had  conspired  to  reduce  them  to  serfdom  upon  their  own 
lands.* 

Still  these  men  retained  possession  of  their  homes,  and 
though  they  had  ceased  making  improvements,  were  able  to 
obtain  subsistence  therefrom. 

Time  passed,  and  the  railroad  company  obtained  from  the 
government  patents  for  the  amount  of  land  specified  in  the 
original  grant. 

The  road  was  not  completed  as  the  law  making  the  grant 
required  that  it  should  be  before  the  patents  should  issue, 
one  hundred  and  ten  miles  of  it  being  then,  as  now  (1884), 
untouched,  and  no  portion  of  it  being  upon  the  line  specified 
in  their  charter,  which  was  the  only  line  upon  which  they 
had  the  right  to  build  a  road,  much  less  to  claim  a  grant  of 
land  for  building,  even  under  the  resolution  of  congress,  it 
being  plainly  absurd  to  say  that  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
was  as  near  to  their  original  line  as  it  was  possible  to  build. 

The  settlers  were  now  powerless  in  the  hands  of  the  cor- 
poration, which  played  with  them  much  as  a  cat  does  with  a 
mouse  before  craunching  its  bones  for  the  final  act  of  swal- 
lowing. 

Their  first  act  after  having  completed  the  road  through 
the  Slough  and  formed  connection  with  a  road  leading  to 
San  Francisco,  was  to  place  the  price  of  freight  so  high  as  to 
consume  the  entire  profit  of  all  labor  upon  the  irrigated 
lands,  thus  seeking  to  prevent  the  settlers  from  obtaining 
further  means  with  which  to  continue  the  contest  and  trans- 
form them  into  the  serfs  of  the  company. 

The  outside  world  during  all  this  time  remained  in  almost 

*  PUBLISHER'S  NOTE. — This  part  of  the  story  may  seem  incredible  ;  but  the 
imprisonment  of  the  committee  that  went  to  San  Francisco  upon  the  Invitation  of  the 
railroad  authorities,  the  appraisement  of  the  lands  at  the  price  of  farms,  the  attempted 
eviction  and  the  murdering  of  the  settlers  on  the  nth  of  May,  1880,  occurred  as 
related. 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  325 

absolute  ignorance  of  the  desperate  attempt  being  made  upon 
the  rights  of  a  portion  of  our  citizens. 

The  greater  part  of  the  press  of  the  Pacific  coast  wore 
the  muzzle  of  the  corporations,  and  only  the  most  meagre 
reports  of  these  matters  were  sent  out  through  the  Asso- 
ciated Press,  and  such  as  were  sent  were  tinged  with  the  col- 
oring furnished  by  the  conspirators. 

The*  first  year  after  the  completion  of  the  main  irrigating 
ditch  the  settlers  had  set  apart  the  eleventh  day  of  May  as  a 
day  of  general  rejoicing,  and  thanksgiving  for  the  harvest 
which  followed  the  coming  of  the  waters,  and  through  all 
their  troubles  they  had  regularly  observed  it,  their  festivities 
usually  taking  the  form  of  a  picnic,  which  was  attended  by 
everybody,  regardless  of  age  or  sex,  and  it  was  this  eleventh 
day  of  May,  this  festival  day  in  1880,  that  the  corporate  con- 
spirators fixed  upon  for  the  consummation  of  their  scheme 
for  possessing  themselves  of  the  homes  of  these  people. 

In  order  to  secure  fit  tools  for  this  purpose,  the  company 
had  made  pretended  sales  of  the  homes  of  a  portion  of  the 
settlers  to  men  of  known  desperate  character,  among  others 
to  one  named  Crow,  a  noted  desperado  and  crack-shot;  and 
it  was  these  men  whom  the  United  States  marshal  was 
ordered  to  take  upon  his  raid  of  eviction. 

The  marshal  left  San  Francisco  before  day  and  arrived 
at  Hanford,  the  station  nearest  the  Slough  lands,  at  seven 
o'clock  in  the  morning. 

Here  he  was  met  by  Crow  with  his  gang  of  desperadoes 
armed  to  the  teeth,  and  all  started  together  in  wagons. 

Crow  carried  two  bulldog  revolvers  and  a  knife  in  his 
belt,  and  had  a  repeating  rifle  and  a  double-barreled  fowling 
piece  in  the  wagon  in  which  he  rode,  and  all  bristled  with 
deadly  weapons,  principally  revolvers  and  knives. 

A.S  was  anticipated  by  the  marshal,  they  arrived  at  the 


326  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

first  house  in  the  Slough  settlement  after  its  occupants  had 
left  for  the  picnic. 

Without  ceremony  the  door  of  this  peaceful  dwelling  was 
broken  down  and  everything  in  it  pitched  into  the  highway. 

This  done,  they  placed  three  No.  10  cartridges  upon  the 
doorstep  as  an  indication  of  the  fate  which  awaited  the 
honest  settler  and   his  family   if  they  dared  replace  their- 
household  goods  and  resume  the  occupancy  of  their  home. 

They  then  started  in  the  direction  of  the  next  settler's 
claim,  intending  to  proceed  in  the  same  manner  with  each 
of  twenty-five  houses  against  whose  owners  the  marshal  had 
writs  of  ejectment. 

But  they  were  not  destined  to  proceed  so  far. 

Unknown  to  them  the  gang  had  been  seen  to  leave  Han- 
ford  by  one  who,  surmising  the  nature  of  their  errand,  has- 
tened to  notify  the  settlers  of  what  was  about  to  be  attempted. 

Mounting  a  horse  he  rode  with  all  speed,  and,  approach- 
ing the  picnic  grounds,  came  first  upon  several  parties  who 
had  driven  a  little  way  back  from  the  immediate  scene  of 
festivities  in  order  to  find  a  suitable  place  for  leaving  their 
teams  and  wagons. 

Among  them  were  Erastus  Hemmingway  and  his  neigh- 
bor, Mr.  Johnson. 

To  these  men  he  communicated  what  he  had  observed, 
and  his  belief  regarding  the  intention  of  the  marshal  and  his 
gtmg  of  desperate  characters. 

All  listened  eagerly  to  the  information  brought  by  their 
friend,  and  then  held  a  hurried  consultation  among  them- 
selves. 

Erastus,  Johnson,  and  one  of  the  others,  were  armed 
with  a  single  revolver  of  small  calibre  each.  The  rest  were 
without  weapons  of  any  kind. 

They  did  not  like  to  return  to  the  picnic  grounds  and 


OR,  JUST  A  CAMPIN'.  327 

frighten  the  women  and  children  with  an  announcement  of 
what  they  believed  was  taking  place;  neither  did  they  pro- 
pose that  their  homes  should  be  ravished  and  they  make  no 
effort  to  defend  them. 

It  was  finally  agreed  that  Hemmingway,  Johnson,  and 
those  who  were  with  them,  should  hurry  across  country  to  a 
point  in  the  road  about  a  mile  away,  over  which  the  marshal 
and  his  crowd  must  pass,  while  the  friend  who  had  brought 
the  information  should  quietly  notify  others  and  leave  them 
to  follow  or  wait  for  a  report  from  those  who  were  in 
advance,  as  they  thought  best. 

Hurrying  across  the  fields,  this  little  body  of  men  came 
out  into  the  road  by  which  the  gang  were  proceeding,  just 
in  advance  of  the  marshal  and  his  party,  as  they  approached 
the  cottage  of  the  second  victim  marked  upon  their  list  for 
eviction. 

Seeing  them,  the  marshal  halted  and  got  down  from  the 
wagon  in  which  he  was  riding.  Crow  and  the  others  did  the 
same. 

Approaching  to  within  a  few  feet  of  the  marshal,  Erastus 
demanded  to  know  if  it  were  true  that  they  had  come  to  evict 
the  settlers,  and  was  told  that  they  had. 

"  You  will  not  be  allowed  to  do  so,"  replied  Hemming- 
way; "we  redeemed  these  lands  from  the  desert  and  gave 
them  all  the  value  they  possess.  They  belong  to  us  and  we 
intend  to  hold  them." 

The  marshal  replied  that  "  he  was  doing  only  what  the 
law  and  the  court  required  of  him,  but  that  rather  than  use 
force  he  would  abandon  the  attempt." 

But  Crow  and  his  gang  thirsted  for  blood,  and  had  been 
ordered  to  prevent  any  abandonment  of  the  object  for  which 
they  were  sent. 

Scarcely  had  the  words  of  the  marshal  issued  from  his 


328  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

mouth  when  Crow  drew  his  revolver  and  fired  at  Erastus, 
thus  giving  the  signal  to  the  others  of  the  gang,  who  at  once 
followed  his  example  and  emptied  their  revolvers  into  the 
bodies  of  the  innocent  and  almost  defenseless  men  in  front 
of  them. 

Crow's  first  shot  was  aimed  at  Hemmingway's  heart  and 
missed  it  by  but  a  few  inches.  The  bullet  entered  his  left 
breast  and  passed  entirely  through  his  body,  but  though 
mortally  wounded  he  succeeded  in  drawing  his  own  revolver, 
and,  firing,  killed  one  of  the 'desperadoes  on  the  spot. 

One  other  of  the  gang  was  wounded  by  a  shot  fired  by 
Johnson,  who  was  himself  instantly  killed  by  the  second 
volley  of  the  desperadoes. 

Two  others  of  the  settlers  were  killed  outright  and  three 
wounded;  the  latter  by  shots  from  the  fowling  piece  of 
Crow,  who  fired  at  them  as  they  fled,  and  but  for  the  fact 
that  the  horses  attached  to  the  wagon,  in  which  lay  the 
villain's  revolving  rifle,  took  fright  and  ran  away,  not  one 
of  them  would  have  escaped  death. 

.  Terror-stricken  the  bleeding  men  sped  on  in  the  direction 
of  the  picnic  grounds,  but  had  gone  but  a  little  distance  when 
they  met  a  score  of  neighbors,  who,  having  been  told  the 
rumor  of  attempted  evictions,  had  not  waited  for  word  from 
the  first  party,  but  followed  on  after,  leaving  their  panic- 
stricken  families  to  hitch  up  the  teams  and  follow  by  the 
longer  way  of  the  road. 

To  these  men  the  news  of  the  awful  tragedy  just  enacted 
was  communicated,  and  a  portion  hurried  forward  while 
others  returned  to  find  the  families  of  the  dead  and  wounded 
men,  if  perchance  they  had  not  yet  left  the  grounds,  and 
prepare  them  as  best  they  could  for  the  worst  that  could 
occur. 


330  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

Meantime  the  marshal  and  his  brutal  allies  had  beat  a 
hasty  retreat. 

The  former  avoided  Hanford  and  reached  another 
station,  where  he  took  the  train  for  San  Francisco. 

Crow,  attempting  to  follow  on  after  his  horses,  was  found 
next  day  dead  by  the  roadside,  a  bullet  through  his  heart, 
one  hand  clasping  a  bulldog  revolver  and  the  other  his 
double-barreled  shotgun. 

Erastus  Hemmingway  and  the  other  murdered  and  dying 
-victims  of  the  conspiracy  were  tenderly  lifted  from  the 
ground  and  carried  to  their  homes. 

Lucy,  with  her  mother  and  two  children — a  second  child, 
a  girl,  having  been  born  to  them — reached  home  in  advance 
of  those  who  brought  her  wounded  husband. 

They  had  heard  the  most  terrible  rumors,  and  were  tor- 
tured by  the  most  horrible  fears,  but  were  in  ignorance  of 
what  had  actually  occurred  until  the  men  came  bearing  the 
bleeding  body  with  its  unconscious  face  and  laid  it  at  their 
feet. 

To  those  who  cannot  imagine  the  agony  of  these  loving 
hearts  no  description  which  the  writer  can  give  would  con- 
vey any  meaning  whatever. 

Erastus  lived  until  morning. 

He  was  unconscious  during  the  whole  time,  and  died 
without  a  word  or  look  of  recognition  of  those  about  him, 
while  wife  and  mother  and  children  poured  forth  their  an- 
guish in  tears  and  sobs  as  they  watched  the  pulsing  of  the 
heart  grow  fainter  and  fainter  and  felt  the  hands  which  they 
clasped  become  colder  and  colder,  as  the  death-damp  gath- 
ered upon  the  brow  of  him  they  loved. 

When  he  was  buried  these  two  lone  and  widowed  women, 
the  one  in  the  prime  of  life,  the  other  bowed  and  broken 
and  gray  with  years  and  sorrow,  but  more  with  sorrow  than 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  331 

with  years,  returned  to  their  desolate  home  to  clasp  two 
fatherless  children  to  their  breasts,  and  weep  and  moan,  liv- 
ing in  daily  fear  of  other  attempts  at  eviction  and  other 
tragedies  until  such  time  as  death  shall  come  to  them,  or 
until  the  whole  people  shall  waken  from  their  slumbers, 
throw  off  the  fatal  spell  which  binds  them,  and  demand  that 
justice  be  done,  and  reparation  made  so  far  as  may  be. 

Walking  down  one  of  the  principal  streets  of  Chicago 
one  day  recently  I  met  Ensign,  the  husband  of  Jennie  Par- 
sons. 

He  was  not  as  well  dressed  as  when  I  last  saw  him,  and 
his  greeting  had  less  of  self  confidence  and  manly  independ- 
ence than  formerly. 

In  truth,  I  think  he  intended  to  pass  without  speaking, 
but  I  stopped  him  and  held  out  my  hand. 

"  How  do  you  do,"  I  said;  "  and  how  is  Jennie  and  the 
babies  ?" 

"  They  are  well,  or  as  well  as  could  be  expected  under 
the  circumstances,"  was  the  reply. 

I  feared  that  all  was  not  exactly  right  with  them,  but 
could  not  well  appear  to  be  inquisitive.  I  have  a  high' 
respect  for  Ensign  and  his  wife,  and  had  no  intention  of 
permitting  them  to  drop  from  my  list  of  friends,  and  I 
said  : 

"  I  am  coming  out  to  spend  an  evening  with  you  before 
long  if  you  will  allow  me.  I  suppose  you  are  still  living  in 
the  same  cottage  on  C street  ?'' 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  they  foreclosed  and  took  that  from 
us  more  than  a  year  ago;  after  we  had  more  than  half  paid 
for  it,  too.  You  see  I  was  thrown  out  of  my  place  by  the 
failure  of  the  company  I  was  at  work  for,  and  could  not  keep 
UD  the  payments  on  the  house  and  lot,  and  so  lost  all  we  had 


332  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

saved  since  coming  here,  together  with  what  little  we  had 
when  we  came." 

""And  where  are  you  living  now  ?"  I  asked. 

He  hesitated  a  little  and  then  said: 

"  After  we  lost  our  place  I  got  another  job  at  one  of  the 
mills,  but  was  sick  with  the  fever  for  a  time,  and  when  I  got 
up  again  I  could  get  no  steady  employment,  and  we  were 
forced  to  rent  some  rather  poor  rooms  on street,  front- 
ing on  the  railroad  track.  Well,  the  railroad  company 
claimed  the  ground  that  this  building  and  others  stood  on 
and  wanted  possession,  so  they  ordered  us  put  out  without 
ceremony. 

"  I  came  home  from  a  long  tramp  after  work  one  day 
and  found  Jennie  and  the  children  on  the  sidewalk  with 
what  few  household  goods  we  had  left,  crying  their  eyes  out 
with  fear  and  anxiety." 

"And  then  what?"  I  asked,  seeing  that  he  hesitated 
again. 

"Well,  I  was  out  of  money,  and  rent  had  to  be  paid  in 
advance,  and  as  we  had  nothing  to  pay  with,  and  could  not 
borrow,  we  moved  into  an  old  building  with  another  family 
down  by  the  river,  until  I  can  find  work  and  rent  a  better 
place.  We  don't  call  it  living;  it  isn't  living;  it's  only  just  a 
camping;  but  what  can  a  fellow  do?  I  assure  you  there  are 
hundreds  of  other  families  in  the  city  who  are  equally  bad 
off." 

The  story  "  Driven  from  Sea  to  Sea  "  is  finished, — no, 
not  finished.  John  Parsons  and  Erastus  Hemmingway  are 
dead.  One  sleeps  with  his  crippled  child  upon  the  mountain 
side  ;  one  lies  buried  in  the  valley,  side  by  side  with  his 
neighbors,  who  fell  like  him,  the  victims  of  the  rapacious 
greed  of  corporate  conspirators  on  that  fatal  morning  of 


OR,  JUST    A    CAMPIN  .  333 

May,  1880  ;  but  Martha  Parsons  and  Lucy  Hemmingway 
stilt  live,  and  living  still  contend  with  a  corporation  for  the 
shelter  above  their  heads  and  the  heads  of  orphaned  children. 
With  them  battle  others  whose  homes  and  farms  are  in 
jeopardy  from  the  same  source. 

Occasionally  some  settler,  driven  from  his  home,  made 
desperate  by  long-continued  suffering,  by  wrongs  oft  re- 
peated, takes  vengeance  upon  the  immediate  author  of  his 
woes  ;  and  some  man,  some  tool  of  the  corporation  sent  to 
hold  possession  of  the  land  from  which  the  settler  has  been 
evicted,  is  found  dead  upon  the  spot  where  the  wrong  was 
done.*  Even  as  you  read  these  lines  and  wonder  if  such 
things  are  possible,  honest  settlers,  not  alone  in  California, 
but  in  any  of  a  dozen  different  States,  it  may  be,  are  being 

*  The  following  article  from  the  San  Francisco  Daily  Examiner  of  November 
13,  1883,  shows  that  this  terrible  conflict  is  still  going  on: 

THE  LAST  MUSSEL  SLOUGH  TRAGEDY. — It  is  not  surprising  that  another  tragedy 
has  been  added  to  the  dark  history  of  the  Mussel  Slough  country.  It  is  simply 
another  chapter  in  the  old  story  of  the  conflict  of  might  against  right  ;  of  a  long  suc- 
cession of  deep  and  deadly  injuries  ripening  in  a  harvest  of  blood  ;  of  the  oppressed 
striking  at  the  oppressors ;  of  the  victims  of  injustice  and  cruelty  turning,  as  even 
a  worm  will  turn,  and  stinging  the  feet  that  trample  on  them.  It  has  been  so  in  every 
land  under  the  sun,  and  will  be  so  as  long  as  the  world  lasts.  Traced  to  its  source, 
the  biy^r  enmities  engendered  flow  from  railroad  greed  and  avarice.  The  -conflict 
is  simply  one  wherein  organized  wealth  has  sought  to  rob  the  settler  of  his  home, 
for  the  railroads  will  pillage  the  farmer  of  his  home  and  lands  as  readily  as  they  rob 
the  merchant  and  the  tradesman.  Everything  is  fish  which  comes  to  the  railroad  net. 

It  is  not  necessary  for  the  Examiner  to  relate  the  history  of  these  contests. 
They  are  familiar  to  the  people  of  the  State.  Such  robberies  have  been  so  common  as 
to  have  lost  even  the  semblance  of  novelty.  Now  and  then  the  picture  of  remorseless 
greed,  of  unsated  avarice,  is  deepened  with  a  tragedy,  as  in  San  Joaquin  County 
recently,  when  Patrick  Breen  lost  his  life.  He  took  possession  as  a  railroad  tenant  of 
lands  on  the  Moquelemos  grant,  dispossessing  a  settler  of  his  home.  Who  killed  him 
it  is  not  necessary  to  inquire.  He  drove  away  those  who  should  have  enjoyed  these 
lands  in  peace.  And  now  the  scene  has  shifted  to  the  Mussel  Slough  country,  memo- 
rable for  similar  tragedies  in  the  past.  Two  men,  named  McAuliffe  and  Riley,  were  the 
other  day  put  in  possession,  as  railroad  tenants,  of  settler  Cockrell's  property.  Yester- 
day McAuliffe  was  found  dead,  shot  through  the  heart.  He  was  the  instrument 
of  the  corporations,  and  their  victim  as  well,  since  they  are  responsible  even  more  than 
the  outlaw  whose  rifle  has  laid  him  lifeless  on  his  new  domain.  The  law,  if  it  can 
find  the  homicide,  may  hold  him  to  account.  But  there  is  sometimes  a  sentiment 
of  rude  justice  which  rises  in  conflict  with  the  law,  and  this  will  justify  men  in  defend- 


334  DRIVEN    FROM    SEA    TO    SEA; 

driven  from  their  homes,  their  altars  overthrown,  their 
household  gods  destroyed,  their  lives  sacrificed,  their  wives 
widowed  and  their  children  made  orphans. 

No,  the  story  is  not  yet  finished;  but  so  far  as  told  it  is 
a  true  story.  All  of  the  main  incidents  have  taken  place 
substantially  as  related.  They  are  part  of  the  history  of  our 
country;  have  occurred  to  our  own  citizens,  beneath  the 
shadow  of  our  own  flag. 

Had  it  been  other  than  a  true  story  it  might  have  ended 
with  a  brighter  picture;  with  the  brightest  and  best  of  all 
pictures — the  picture  of  a  loving  and  honored  old  couple 
enjoying  the  last  years  of  their  well-spent  lives  amidst  scenes 
of  plenty  and  beauty,  the  work  of  nature  and  their  own 
hands;  with  loving  children  and  laughing  babies,  the  children 
of  their  children  about  them. 

As  it  is  a  true  story  it  could  not  be  told  otherwise  than 
as  it  has  been,  and  if  the  pictures  presented  have  been  sor- 
rowful instead  of  pleasant  ones,  and  if  the  reader  has  been 
forced  to  weep,  when,  like  the  writer,  he  would  prefer  laugh- 
ter to  tears,  it  is  not  the  writer's  fault. 

If  sometime  the  people  shall  make  it  possible  to  write  a 
story  in  which,  without  being  untrue  to  life  as  the  great  mass 
of  the  people  live  it,  the  pleasant  pictures  shall  crowd  out 
and  force  us  and  them  to  forget  the  sorrowful  ones,  then  will 
the  writer  of  this  be  only  too  glad  to  write  the  sequel  of 
"  Driven  from  Sea  to  Sea;  or,  Just  a  Campin'." 

ing  when  it  is  possible,  and  avenging  when  it  is  not,  their  violated  rights  and  pillaged 
homes. 

Breen  and  McAuliffe  were  but  instruments  of  the  corporations — deceived  and 
betrayed,  no  doubt.  It  Is  to  be  lamented  that  they  foolishly  undertook  the  tasks 
assigned  them.  It  is  deplorable  that  they  have  lost  their  lives.  If  railroad  rapacity  is 
insatiable,  and  violence  results,  it  is  a  pity  that  the  mere  agents  become  the  victims. 

It  is  time  for  this  wretched  state  of  affairs  to  end.  Too  long  have  the  grasping 
corporations  persisted  in  their  dishonest  work.  They  are  deliberately  breeding  in  this 
State  a  spirit  of  vengeance  that  bodes  them  terrible  evil.  If  it  is  possible  for  them  to 
learn  wisdom,  they  will  halt  in  their  career  of  rapine  and  enter  upon  a  policy  of  honesty 
and  peace. 


"DRIVEN  FROM  SEA  TO  S£  A/ 


OR,  JUST  A. 


£.  (7.  P0S7",  £<//¥or  of  the  Chicago  Express. 


MB.  POST  has  spent  much  time  and  research  in  getting  at  the  facts  which  It  Illus- 
trates. It  first  appeared  In  the  Express  as  a  serial,  and  attracted  much  attention  by 
Its  startling  exposure  of  outrages,  which  have  been  carried  on  under  the  cover  of  law, 
but  which  amount  to  nothing  less  than  legalized  robbery.  Many  of  the  facts  have 
been  suppressed  by  the  press  through  corporation  Influences,  and  are  known  to  but 
comparatively  few  people.  The  story  will  therefore  make  a  great  sensation,  fortified 
as  it  is  with  foot-notes,  giving  the  facts  upon  which  it  is  based,  in  a  form  that  can- 
not be  controverted. 

The  Hon.  GKO.  W.  JULIAN,  for  many  years  a  member  of  Congress,  after  carefully 
reading  the  story,  says:  "I  have  read  '  Driven  From  Sea  to  Sea'  with  an  interest 
which  never  flagged  for  a  moment.  It  is  a  graphic  picture  of  the  trials  and  sufferings 
of  a  pioneer  settler  in  his  weary  conflict  with  land-grabbers  and  railway  corporations 
in  California,  and  will  be  keenly  appreciated  by  thousands,  who  have  had  a  kindred 
experience.  Asa  contribution  to  the  'simple  annals  of  the  poor,'  it  deserves  a  place 
by  the  side  of  'Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,'  and  it  cannot  fail  to  bear  fruit  in  the  coming 
struggle  between  the  organized  rapacity  of  capital  and  the  rights  of  humanity.  It 
embodies  suggestions  In  political  economy,  and  hints  at  reforms,  which  will  help 
wake  up  the  people,  while  appealing  to  their  sense  of  justice  and  their  sensibility  to 
suffering.  I  have  long  felt  the  need  of  such  a  story,  and  am  glad  to  find  It  so  true  to 
life  and  so  well  written." 

I  IKI.KN  WILMANS,  who  is  widely  known  as  a  writer,  and  formerly  one  of  the 
editors  of  the  Overland  Monthly,  says:  "I  read  'Driven  From  Sea  to  Sea'  as  it  came 
out  in  chapters.  I  do  not  think  I  got  through  a  single  chapter  without  crying;  not 
that  the  story  is  all  pathetic,  though  It  contains  more  true  pathos  than  any  I  have 
ever  read,  but  it  Is  so  true  to  nature.  The  style  is  the  most  truly  natural  and  unaf- 
fected of  any  novel  that  has  appeared  since  the  'Vicar  of  Wakefleld.'  I  believe  it  will 
come  to  be  called  'The  Great  American  Classic.'  I  have  compared  it  most  critically 
with  the  stories  of  our  leading  authors,  and  find  it  greatly  different  In  every  respect. 
The  popular  literature  of  the  day  seems  elaborate  and  forced  in  comparison  with  this 
book.  It  may  be  in  part,  because  the  story  is  true,  and  the  author  knew  it,  that  he 
told  it  with  such  an  unquestioning  appearance  of  truth.  At  all  events,  I  never  in  all 
my  life  read  anything  whose  every  page  and  line  and  word  carries  such  conviction. 
It  must  be  a  work  of  true  art.  I  think  It  possible  that  the  story  writing  of  the  day 
has  departed  so  far  from  nature,  that  some  masterpiece  was  needed  to  found  a  new 
school  in  this  branch  of  literature,  and  that  'Driven  From  Sea  to  Sea'  is  the  master- 
piece. Men  have  given  us  books  by  the  thousand  in  these  last  days,  but  they  have  not 
given  themselves  In  their  books.  But  here  Is  a  man  in  the  truest  sense  of  greatness, 
and  without  knowing  it,  he  has  given  himself  so  beautifully,  so  touchlngly  In  this 
book,  as  to  place  the  world  under  obligation  to  him." 


Firioo, 


J.  E.  DOWNEY  &  CO.,  1  09  Wabash  Av.,  Chicago. 


EDITED    BY       Cm        C«        P^)STj       AUTHOR   OF 

"DRIVEN  FROM  SEA  TO  SEA; 

OR,   JUST   A    CAMPIN'," 


aided  by  competent  assistants,  and  a  corps  of  contributors 
among  whom  are  some  of  the  best  known  writers  in  the 
country. 

The  Express  is  a  large  7 -column,  8-page  weekly,  established 
in  1823,  and  is  devoted  to  literature,  news,  and  a  dissemi- 
nation of  the  truths  of  the  New  School  of  Political 
Economy.  Keeping  a  record  of  crime  and  scandal  is 
not  a  part  of  its  mission. 


Price  on  Common  News  Paper,     -       -      $1,OO  per  year. 
On  Fine  Paper,  suitable  for  Filing,       -        1.5O  " 


Address, 

CHICAGO    EXPRESS, 

Cor.  5th    Ave.    and   Washington    Street,    CHICAGO,    ILL. 


m    mm 


